#that fish had such an emotional impact on me

[savageboar]

is feeling guilt over the time you spent as a beginner to a pet keeping hobby something other people experience or am i just mentally ill.

[lavandulawrites]

Autonomy Of a Free Soul

Chapter 1: Wonderland

This is an yandere genshin men x reader that will have multiple chapters (I don’t know how many just yet). Every genshin male will be a part of this “harem” sooner or later. This will be cross posted on ao3. It will partially follow the plot of genshin impact. 

Masterlist

Synopsis: You find yourself in the meadow by the giant oak tree at Windrise. You have faint memories of falling into a well which is deeply hidden inside a cave by your home. You get captivated by the tune a green clad man plays on his lyre high up in the tree.

Warnings: female reader

Word count: 4227

Light peered through your eyelashes as your eyelids fluttered. A pleasant warmth enveloped you. The fresh breeze caressed your cheeks. The surface underneath you was soft and you would have thought that it was a bed had you not smelled the fresh air of the outdoors.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked at the sun. Your slowly sat up and let your eyes roam your surroundings. You were laying on a green meadow filled with various delicate wild flowers. A few birds flew across the clear sky. A few dandelion seeds blowed with the wind towards you. To your right were a huge tree, who’s branches reached for the blue endless sky.

After a while you rose to your feet and began following the little stream up to the tree. A couple of fishes swam happily along the stream and a few frogs hopped in front of your path.

Despite your confused state, you were filled with tranquility. Had you not known better, you would have thought you had reached heaven.

As you stopped by the large tree you heard the soft melody of a lyre. You walked around the thick trunk in search of its source.

On one of its thick branches sat a light green clad man. His long and slender fingers gently strummed the strings of his lyre, creating a beautiful melody. Though the melody had no words, you could feel the heavy emotion it carried.

You had no idea how long you stood underneath the tree listening to his song. The man opened his eyes and revealed his stunning cyan irises. He was around your age, early twenties, but his big eyes revealed wisdom beyond your imagination.

His gaze met yours and you were stunned by his beauty. He hopped down from the branch with playful elegance.

He bowed before you, his lyre behind his back. “Hello my beautiful maiden. What an honour it is to have such a stunning lady to be my audience. I am truly a lucky bard” he smiled and winked at you playfully.

You were taken aback by his flirtatious words. “Hello” you smiled back. “Your music is really beautiful. Does the song you just played have a name?”

“Not yet” he shook his head. He tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner before he lit up “What if I name it after you? What’s your name sweetheart?” his tone gleeful.

“[Name]. What’s yours?”

“Oh my, what a lovely name! I am Venti the bard” he took of his hat and bowed deeply, with his feet crossed. He spun his hat in the air before he put it back on. “I haven’t seen you around before and believe me when I say that I know everyone in Mondstadt. So [Name], where exactly are you from?”

At his question your eyes widened. You had almost forgotten how you woke up suddenly in the flowerbed. Before you had woken up in this unfamiliar landscape, you had been on a walk in the woods by your home. You had explored a cave and had tripped on a root and fallen down into an ancient well. When you opened your eyes you found yourself here in the meadow.

“You are right I’m not from around here” you sighed. You hesitated. Was it wise to tell him about the well? You couldn’t be too sure if he was to be trusted or not. After a moment of thinking, you chose to tell him all the details. Maybe he could help you? “I fell into a well inside a cave back home, but strangely I can’t remember everything else. My memories from my home is there, but they’re glossy” you prayed that he wouldn’t think that you were crazy.

“I see…That’s really unfortunate. I don’t think I can help you with returning home” Venti smiled sadly.

“It’s okay. I guess there is no helping it…”

His hand slipped into his shorts and pulled out a cloth that was round in shape. He opened the flowery cloth and revealed the reddest apple you had ever seen. “Do you like apples? I myself absolutely love them. I can’t ever seem to get enough” he laughed.

“I love apples” you nodded and returned his smile.

Venti skilfully broke the apple in half with his fingers. He gave you one of the half’s. The aroma of the apple reached your nose and you hummed in delight.

“Smells good? It will taste even better” he took a bite himself and closed his eyes in delight.

You followed his example. The taste did not disappoint. The apple was juicy and sweet. It was perfect.

“Do you know where you’ll stay tonight?” he asked as he wiped his fingers in the cloth. His apple completely vanished.

“No…” you smiled sheepishly.

“I see… The city is quite far away. A couple of hours walk in fact.”

His eyes got a certain glint in them. “But I have another way of transportation” he winked.

You tilted your head at his implication. “Another way of transportation? What might that be?”

Venti turned his back slightly towards you and pointed at a round crystal decoration. “I’ll use this! The power of anemo sure is amazing!”

“Anemo?” you blinked at him.

Venti quickly spun around. His expression one of shock. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what visions and elemental powers are?”

“Umm… I don’t… Sorry” you winced in embarrassment. You really didn’t understand a thing.

“I guess you really aren’t from around here. Worry not! Visions are amulets that let people control the elements. Anemo is the wind element. Mondstadt, where we are now, is the nation of anemo”

“Ohh… I see” you nodded, but you found it difficult to believe in amulets and elemental powers. Was he playing tricks on you?

“I can sense your hesitation. Let me demonstrate”. The bard held his hand of for you to take. “May I?”

You nodded as you took his hand. His skin was soft and warm.

Wind engulfed you both as Venti wrapped his arms around you. “Hold on tight!”

The wind lifted you both up high in the air. You two soared fast in the air and you clutched your hands at tightly as you could onto his arms. “Don’t be scared! Trust me! We will not fall down”

The landscape became almost blurry underneath your feet as you moved as fast as the wind. You had never felt as free as you did soaring high in the air with a man you just had met. It felt like a scene from one of the fairytales your mother used to read you.

A city could be seen in to horizon. When you two got closer, you could faintly make out three large windmills and a large cathedral.

“That’s Mondstadt city. The city of freedom. Home to many bards such as myself” Venti’s breath ghosted your air softly.

“It’s beautiful” you said in awe.

Venti laughed at your comment. “It really is isn’t it?” he sounded almost like a proud father.

The two of you landed in front of a big stone bridge which led up to the city.

The cobblestone clicked underneath your shoes as you made your way over. A small boy was standing by the edge of the bridge feeding a couple of pigeons. The birds fled at the sight of the two of you, earning you both an earful from the little boy.

When you reached the gates, you were greeted by two knights. Venti only smiled and greeted them, which they returned.

The city was lively and music filled the streets. Multiple street vendors were littered across the streets.

Venti led you up to a more quiet part of town. “This hotel is both cheap and nice” he told you as he opened the hotel door which was painted a lively red colour.

The walls were of dark brown panel and the red rug with a forest motif that led to the staircase was well-loved. The lobby was decorated with different nicknacks. On the walls were paintings of the city.

The owner of the hotel was an elderly man with blond hair with greying streaks. When he smiled his eyes crinkled with crows feet. He looked like someone’s grandfather. He smiled at Venti from behind the reception desk that was cluttered with various papers and an comical large flower vase filled with tulips in the colour of the rainbow. “Hello Venti. What can I do for you today?”

“Hello Meier. Do you have any rooms available for this young lady?” he smiled at the man. Venti had told you on the way to the hotel that Meier owed him a favour. “She doesn’t have anywhere to stay tonight and I thought since you owe me, that maybe you had a spare room for her?”

Meier’s smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry Venti, but I really don’t have any spare room. The whole hotel is booked. You see a couple of diplomats from the other nations have come here and they have taken all the rooms in the finer hotels”. He turned his eyes round you “I am really sorry miss. Perhaps you could try some of the ins close to the city?”

You bid your farewells to Meier before you exited the hotel.

You sighed as you sat down at a bench near a fountain. You were far from home, in a whole different world given the unfamiliar city and the weird creatures or rather monsters you had seen, and you had absolutely nowhere to stay the night. Money was also something you completely lacked.

Venti was staring of into the distance, deeply lost in thought. After a while he turned towards you. “As Meier said, the other hotels are absolutely packed so it’s not worth to even check. ” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Here I was trying to be a good Mondstadt guide too” he shook his head, causing his braids to gently flap against his cheeks in a rather cute manner.

“No, no. Don’t apologise. This isn’t your fault. Not in the slightest” you tried to reassure him. “But what about the ins? Maybe they have some rooms available?”

“They might have some rooms available, but the roads outside of the city is filled with monsters lately. It’s simply to dangerous for someone without a vision. And I take it that you don’t have any training in combat?” his voice was serious and his eyes intense.

“I see. I don’t have any combat skills” you sighed.

After a moment of silence Venti spoke up again. “What if you stay at my place? There’s space and I will sleep on the couch” he looked at you with something you recognised as hope. His large eyes glittered and the way the soft light from the sunset hit them made them absolutely breathtaking.

You were so in awe of his beauty that you almost forgot to answer him. “I would love to. Thank you very much Venti. I really hope it isn’t too much of a bother for you” you smiled at him with gratefulness.

“Not at all! Let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Venti’s home was in a apartment building in the livelier part of the city. His apartment was on the top floor (the fifth floor). The walls were covered in a pale green wallpaper with dandelion seeds motifs. It consisted of a bathroom, a bedroom with a queen bed, a open kitchen and living room, a closet and a balcony. The balcony overlooked a little stage with rows of chairs in front of it. Venti told you that it was a place where amateurs could preform, be it music or plays.

Venti led you to the kitchen which he began rummaging through the cabinets. “It’s late so I’ll cook us some dinner. It won’t take long.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked as your eyes trailed hai movements. Despite his human appearance, he moved like he belonged in the sky. His every movement was fluid and his movements looked like dancing steps.

“No. Sit back and relax. You’re my guest after all” he smirked.

You hummed at the delicious taste of the pasta bolognese. “Wow Venti! You’re a really great cook!”

“Thank you, though I’m only an amateur” he smiled as he took a bite himself.

The dining table was of light wood. It was cowered with a white table cloth with embroidered light blue flowers. A candlestick was lit in the middle of the table, creating a cozy feeling. At the end of the table were various note sheets which Venti had tried to hastily clean up when you first entered the apartment.

“How does one obtain a vision?” you asked as you took a sip of the dandelion wine he had poured in your glass.

“It’s a favour from the gods. Those that reside in Celestia. It’s a sing of great ambition. The anemo vision is given to those who value freedom in a great deal” he nodded towards his vision that were laying on top of the countertop.

“Ahhh I see. How many types of visions are there?”

“Seven. All the seven nations are the homes of different elements. Mondstadt as you know is the nation of anemo, Liyue is the nation of geo, Inazuma is electro, Sumeru is dendro, Natlan is pyro and Snezhnaya is cryo” he spinners his fork in some spaghetti before he lifted the fork to his mouth. “Each nation have their own archon, god if you will. The one in Mondstadt is called Barbatos.”

“I see” you nodded. “Quite fascinating.”

“Yeah, I guess you can indeed say that”. He noticed your empty plate. “I’ll go and clean the dishes, then I will make your bed” he rose form his seat and collect the empty dishes.

“I should help you” you stood up and carried the empty wine glasses to the sink.

“No it’s okay. You’re my guest” he said reassuringly.

Venti’s bookshelf’s were filled with various works of poetry, fiction, song lyrics and historical books. You ran your fingertips over their backs. Your fingers were coated in a light veil of dust. You took out a book on Mondstadt’s history out of the shelf. You sat down in the light teal sofa. A few strands of treads were sticking out of the seems, making it clear as day that this sofa was well loved.

Your eyes went to the kitchen were Venti was humming on a tune while he scrubbed a pot clean. His voice was angelic and you hoped you would be so lucky that you would be able to hear him sing sometime. Venti was so kind and welcoming. He had told you the history of Mondstadt as you had walked among the streets of the city. He had told you so much that you felt like you knew Mondstadt like one would with a childhood friend. Yet, you knew absolutely nothing about Venti. You knew of his profession and his love for dandelions and wine, but that was it.

Venti’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m finished” he stood in front of you on the soft rug. “It’s getting late, so maybe we should get some sleep. I have made your bed. Don’t worry, I changed the sheets too” he smiled. The sun from the sunset casted a warm light on Venti’s features. His eyes glittered more than ever before and he looked like someone straight out from a fairytale. He didn’t look human.

“Yes we should. Thank you Venti. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m extremely grateful” you smiled sweetly up at him.

He chuckled. You swore that you could see a faint blush that lightly dusted his cheeks.

Venti’s bed was comfortable and the duvet soft. You quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.

Your dreams were of wells and deep caves. You tried to walk up, but to no avail.

After a long night filled with night terrors, you finally woke up to bird chirping. Sunlight were shining through the white curtains, warming your skin.

You lazily sat up and stretched your limbs. You still felt helpless regarding your situation, but it was little you could do. At least at the moment.

You turned on the shower and let the warm water hit your skin. Venti’s soap had a slight smell of apples and you welcomed the faint fragrance.

After your shower you got dressed and went to the kitchen.

Venti was sitting by the kitchen table while reading a newspaper. His black brows furrowed in concentration. On the table were a basket of bread and strawberry jam and apple jam. He had poured two glasses of apple juice which looked refreshing. His eyes flickered up to meet yours. He smiled gently. “Good morning sleepyhead. Slept well?”

You took the seat opposite of him. “Good morning. Not really. I had a nightmare” you sighed. “But thanks again for staying here. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t” you laughed slightly.

“Nightmares are an awful thing. Unfortunately I can’t seem to get rid of them myself” he smiled sadly before his expression changed into a jovial one. “You’re very much welcome.”

You two talked about everything and nothing while you ate. Venti was easy to talk to and you felt you could tell him everything. It was almost like you were compelled. It was a peculiar feeling.

“We need to get you some new clothes.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any money…” you sighed. Your situation really was unfortunate.

“I will pay. Consider it a gift from me” he smiled.

“But you have already done so much for me. I feel guilty.”

“Please don’t. Believe me when I say that it’s my pleasure.”

“Okay. Thank you” you smiled at the bard.

He returned you smile. “I know of another outlander that is here in Mondstadt. I can introduce you to her. Maybe she will be able to help you with your predicament? And if not, you will have made a new friend. Friends is something you never can get too much off.”

Angle’s Share was rather empty given how early it was. Some patrons were playing a game of cards as the sipped on their beer steins.

The bartender by the counter greeted you as you entered. His hair as red as fresh blood, giving a stark contrast to his pale skin. He was handsome and you could easily understand why he was the bachelor of Mondstadt (that was Venti had told you on your way there). He grunted at the sight of Venti. “Here to pay your tab?” his voice deep and velvety.

Venti laughed awkwardly. “No, I’m actually showing my friend here around Mondstadt. Diluc this is [Name], [Name] this is Diluc” he gestured to each of you.

“Nice to meet you [Name]” the red head smiled.

“Nice to meet you as well Diluc” you smiled back.

“Oh by the way. Have you seen Lumine today?” the bard asked Diluc who was polishing a wineglass.

“She’s upstairs” his answer curt as he continued to work.

Venti nodded before he led you upstairs.

The second floor was empty save from a blond girl and a fairy-like creature that was floating beside her. The girl turned around and smiled when she saw Venti. The fairy followed her example. “Tone deaf bard!” she said she sage waved her little hand. Her voice was high pitched and nearly gave you a headache.

“Hello ladies” Venti playfully greeted. “This is [Name]. [Name] this is Lumine and Paimon. Lumine was the one who saved Mondstadt from the incident I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you. Though I couldn’t have done it on my own. I got help from friends” Lumine smiled. Her topaz coloured eyes shone in the sunlight that peered through the open window. “Why don’t you two take a seat?”

“Nice to meet you Lumine. I must say your strength, from what I have heard, is truly admirable” you smiled as you took a seat on the wooden bench. Venting followed suit and took a swipe at besides you. His knee brushed against yours as he made himself comfortable. You could smell his scent which smelled of fresh apples and wildflowers. It was a pleasant scent that suited him perfectly.

“You flatter me” Lumine smiled. “Should I order anything for you? Some dandelion wine? Or maybe some freshly pressed juice?”

“Dandelion for me if you would be so kind” Venti said. You could see his excitement from the mere mentioning of dandelion wine. His love for the wine was kinda cute.

“I would love some orange juice” you said.

Lumine nodded before she rose and ventured downstairs. The stairs creaked under her steps.

Paimon turned her gaze to you. “So, how did the two do you meet?” she tilted her head in a a childlike manner. Sparkles sparkled around her.

“We met at Windrise” Venti answered.

Paimon nodded. Her brows were furrowed in thought. She was about to say something more when Lumine came back with two glasses. One with orange juice and the other with dandelion wine.

You and Venti thanked her before you both took a sip. The orange juice was fresh and a little sweet, but not too sweet. You hummed in delight.

“So where did you two meet?” she asked as she took a sip of her half full glass of grape juice.

“Windrise” Paimon answered. Lumine shot her a look. “They told Paimon while you were ordering. Don’t send Paimon that look!” the little fairy stumped her feet in the air.

“Windrise… that’s quite far from the city. What were you doing out there?” the blond woman asked you.

At her question you froze. Venti noticed your hesitation. “She’s an outlander just like you Lumine.”

Lumine’s eyes widened. “Oh really? I have never met another outlander. How did you end up here in Teyvat?” her eyes curious.

“I am not too sure actually… I just woke up in a field of flowers by the oak tree” you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Ah… I see. I myself lost my brother. We were travelling from world to world before we ended up here. I am on a mission to find him again” her voice filled with determination. Lumine was a truly remarkable woman and you found yourself in awe at her. You wished you had her bravery. “Paimon here is my companion and guide” Paimon smiled wide at her words.

“Maybe you want to join our journey?” Paimon asked.

“Maybe… I am not too sure yet. I’m still trying to process everything” you smiled sheepishly.

Lumine nodded. “Understandable. We are gonna stay here in Mondstadt for a while before we go to Liyue.”

Your conversation with Lumine and Paimon was pleasant. Paimon had a lot to say and her eagerness was quite adorable. After a while you and Venti bid them goodbye as you headed two a boutique in search of some new clothes for you.

The boutique’s interior was pink and rather feminine. The walls were cowered in murals of pink flowerbeds. The owner was a sweet young woman who was quick to help you find something that suited you.

You ended up with a couple of different outfits and some underwear. You thanked Venti for his generosity. The bard only smiled gently. His eyes brimming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

As the blue sky turned a pinkish colour you ventured up to the cathedral. The building was massive and you felt at its mercy as it towered over the city. In front of the cathedral stood a statue of Barbatos. The statue was tall and made of marble. It was clad in robes and it large wings on its back. His hands stretched out in a form of prayer. He had two twin braided on the said of his head. You admired the statue for a while. It looked familiar. There was no doubt about it. It looked an awfully a lot like Venti. You turned to look at the bard which who was staring out at the city. He was lost in thought and did not notice your staring.

“This statue is really beautiful” you said as you gazed up at its face.

Venti turned to face you. “Yeah… The sculptures did an excellent job.”

“The same goes for the cathedral. Its architecture is absolutely breathtaking. Do you often attended services in the cathedral?” you ask the dark haired man.

“I agree. The craftsman is extremely impressive”. He shook his head “I usually don’t, but I sometimes swing by. The organists are really talented.”

“I want to attend a service some time. Just to see how it is” you gazed up at the looming building.

“We can go together sometime” he looked at you softly.

The soft bed was welcoming after all you walking. You pulled the duvet over your shoulder as you burrowed your face into the pillow. Venti had insisted on you staying as long as you needed. He would take you to the Adventures Guild tomorrow in search of some jobs you could do in order to earn some Mora.

Sleep wrapped you in its warm embrace and you feel into a deep slumber. This time your dream was filled with cyan coloured eyes and white feathers.

[whenmemorydies]

Carmen, Natalie, and the Berzattos

CW: this post talks about domestic violence, addiction, mental health, racialised trauma, toxic masculinity and intergenerational trauma (this show deals with so much friends!).

Go gently with yourself if you choose to continue to read. Also its a long one (longer than my usual!) so fair warning if you're diving in: maybe put the kettle on.

Following on from The Claw, The Scrunchie and The Prayer Card metas (Part 1 and Part 2), I've been thinking more about The Berzattos (represented via Natalie's hair claw in Carmy's apartment) and their presence (seen and unseen) in season 3 of The Bear.

@espumado's fantastic meta on The Night of the Hunter and its use in The Bear, particularly as it relates to Natalie and the struggle she goes through in season 3 has informed a lot of this post. My reblog of that post also contains a lot of thinking that I had started to scratch at but haven't been able to expand upon until now. Also check out @currymanganese's brilliant analysis of The Night of the Hunter in the context of romantic relationships in The Bear.

Another source of information I've used in the research for this meta is this fantastic interview in the LA Times with the cast involved in 2x06 Fishes (thanks @brokenwinebox for sharing it!). Also thank you to @thoughtfulchaos773, @brokenwinebox and @devisrina for the chat about the above interview and discussions about Donna Berzatto's relationship with her son, Carmy.

Finally @vacationship's most excellent breakdown of the roles taken up by characters in The Bear according to Adult Children of Alcoholics ('ACA') roles defined by Sharon Wegscheider-Cruise and communicator types as developed by Virginia Satir has also informed this post.

The Berzattos

Okay so, given what we know about Carmy and about the Berzattos, it would seem obvious that, yes, his birth family is going to impact Carmy. I think its probably so obvious, that a lot of the fandom, myself included, have taken Carmy's relationship with his family for granted this season. To be fair, we were also getting Claire and the Faks shoved down our throats so some things flew under the radar including, in my view, the Berzattos.

What got me thinking about the Berzattos as a source of anguish for Carmy was a rewatch of 3x03 Doors - specifically Carmy's panic attack during that episode.

The first panic attack of season 3

At this late point in the episode, we've been watching Carmy and the crew's slowly escalating struggle with the demands of fine dining, when we arrive at Carmy running expo and calling for hands. His voice is hoarse and it sounds like he's been screaming for some time. His vision starts to blur and as he continues to call out for hands, we see glimpses of what appear to be intrusive thoughts, interrupting Carmy's work and triggering a panic attack. The sequence of shots that appear during this panic attack is below:

I note that Carm appears to be trying to come out of the panic attack by remembering his time at The French Laundry and Noma - much like memories of immaculately plated food helped him regulate during his panic attack in 1x08 Braciole and memories of Sydney helped him to regulate during his panic attack in 2x09 Omelette.

The final thought Carm has during this panic attack - indeed the thought he has when it appears that his panic attack is reaching its peak - is of his sister Natalie, in a church praying:

Note: I'm working on the assumption that the above memory of Natalie takes place at Marcus' mother's funeral. This is based on the clothes Natalie is wearing and how her hair is styled.

Its at this moment in his panic attack that you can see the crest in Carmy's emotions. The orchestral score during this sequence also builds to its climax at this point. Carmy's face screws into a tight grimace and he practically spits out the word, Fuck. Its only then that the music cuts away and we hear Sydney's voice bringing Carmy back to the present:

The fact that thinking about Natalie (praying while she carries the next generation of the Berzatto family) is what causes Carmy's panic attack to peak is what got me thinking more seriously about the impact of his birth family on Carm. ( This is something that others including @mitocamdria and @moodyeucalyptus have also picked up on here and here - the Bear hive mind at work!)

Below is my attempt to map these impacts out, from the perspective of intergenerational trauma, which can be described as,

"the apparent transmission of trauma between generations of a family. People who experience adverse childhood experiences growing up, or who have survived historical disasters or traumas, may pass the effects of those traumas on to their children or grandchildren, through their genes, their behaviour, or both, leaving the next generational susceptible to anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, and other emotional and mental health concerns."

I'd argue that intergenerational trauma can continue well beyond a person's grandchildren, particularly in cases where the systemic factors may have caused a trauma (for example: racial segregation, colonialism), continue to impact on multiple generations of a family.

So lets start by looking at Carmy's mother, Donna Berzatto...

Donna's trauma

I preface the below analysis with the caveat that we are not told what mental health diagnoses (if any) Donna Berzatto has (though she is clearly struggling with her mental health when we first meet her in 2x06 Fishes). The inferences I make below are based on what we have been told in the show about trauma that Donna has experienced.

Recall 3x08 Ice Chips where Donna and Natalie are talking in between bouts of Natalie's contractions. At one point in the episode, Natalie says:

I don't remember your mom.

To which, Donna sadly responds:

You don't want to.

Donna then becomes silently tearful remembering her mother.

Its clear from this very brief exchange that Donna has experienced some level of abuse at the hands of her own mother: Michael, Natalie and Carmy's maternal grandmother. That abuse has no doubt impacted on Donna's ability to parent her own children and likely influenced how she parented them as well.

As a mother myself, I've found that one of the hardest things about parenting has been avoiding the repetition of harmful behaviours that I've picked up through my own childhood. For all of us, the first - and often most memorable - models we have for how to parent have been the experiences we've had with our own primary caregivers (whether they were our birth parents or other adults in our lives). If those models were abusive or violent, we have to work that much harder to make sure we don't fall back on those examples when raising our own children. (And let me tell you, in the heat of the moment when your child is cracking a tanty in the grocery store, it takes A LOT to not revert to learned behaviours and instead take a step back and act from a rational place of calm lol).

For many folks who've had abusive childhoods, raising your own children can also be a very triggering journey. This article goes into a bit of why this is the case. If you've not been able to do any work on yourself or receive help to work through your own childhood abuse, you risk "blowing your trauma through" your children (I've borrowed the phrase "blowing trauma through" from African-American therapist and trauma specialist, Dr Resmaa Menakem, whose fantastic book My Grandmother's Hands has also influenced this post and a lot of my thinking about racial and intergenerational trauma). Given Donna's own history of abuse with her mother, its not a big leap to assume that she has "blown her trauma through" Michael, Natalie and Carmy with each of her children experiencing this in different ways.

There's also Donna's clear mom rage, no doubt built up over years as a single parent, and epitomised in the line from 2x06 (that broke my heart when I heard it because it resonated so much),

I make things beautiful for them, and no one makes things beautiful for me.

Based on the show's lore, up until 3x08 it wasn't evident that Donna had ever taken any steps to try and work through her own mental health issues and trauma. Once we get to 3x08 though, when Natalie says that she didn't tell Donna about her pregnancy because,

I just didn't want all the stuff you bring with you.

Donna replies by saying:

Yeah. I've been trying to put that stuff away.

Natalie then asks her mother how that process is going and Donna responds,

Its not easy.

Natalie then tells her mother that she's glad Donna is trying and Donna says she's glad that she's trying too.

Its not much, but the above exchange points to a slight shift in Donna's approach to her own trauma and to her parenting. This shift appears to have put Donna and Natalie's relationship on firmer footing than it has been in the past. Whether it will be enough for Carmy's relationship with his mother is another question and one I'm sure we'll see play out in season 4.

The Berzattos and Italian American racialised trauma

Other than the above exchange in 3x08 Ice Chips, we have no information about Donna's parents. I assume that Donna was born in America given her description of the Feast of the Seven Fishes (also known as La Vigilia) as described to Richie in 2x06 Fishes. During her description, Donna speaks about the Italian immigrants who brought "their seven best things" with them as if she's speaking about ancestors, not her own generation.

She does not use the first person here:

[I]ts based on people who left Italy to find new dreams and homes with new people. And they brought their seven best things from their sea to their new homes. And not so their families end up being a bunch of fuckin' jagoffs. (lmao)

Then Class A Jagoff, Uncle Lee storms into the kitchen and tells Donna that her retelling of the Seven Fishes legend is "not even close" and refers to all the sevens that occur in the Bible. Which is likely a closer explanation for the feast (see this overview on La Vigilia published on the Italian Sons and Daughters of America website). Notably, it was southern Italian and Sicilian immigrants that popularised the Feast of the Seven Fishes in America.

Given the above, it doesn't seem to me that Donna is a first generation Italian immigrant. Depending on the Berzatto family history, its possible that Donna is the daughter of Italian immigrants or the granddaughter of them. Her Italian ancestry could stretch even further back in time. At this point in The Bear, we don't know.

What we should note is that Italian immigrants and in particular, southern Italian and Sicilian immigrants to America, endured a history of racism in that country before their acceptance into the category of "white" in America.

Image source: How Italians Became 'White', The New York Times

This NY Times article provides an overview of the racialisation of Italians in America over time. The article notes that,

"[d]arker skinned southern Italians endured the penalties of blackness on both sides of the Atlantic. In Italy, Northerners had long held that Southerners - particularly Sicilians - were an 'uncivilized' and racially inferior people, [considered] too obviously African to be part of Europe."

This racism of northern Italians towards those from the south of the country was no doubt tied to Italy’s own racist and violent colonial history, including its involvement in Europe's rabid "Scramble for Africa". In the course of its time as a colonial power, Italy came to brutally invade and occupy Eritrea, Somalia, Libya and Ethopia.

Note: I don't think its a coincidence that, Ebraheim, Somalian "grill master", medic and veteran of the American military intervention in Somalia, found himself working at an Italian American beef sandwich shop. Much in the same way that its no surprise that many folks in my Tamil family ended up in the heart of the British Empire - the UK - after fleeing civil unrest and genocide in one of its former colonies (Sri Lanka). As Tamil writer A.S. Sivanandan is famously quoted as saying about post-colonial migration: "we are here, because you were there."

Once they first arrived in America in the 19th century, racism against Southern Italians continued:

"They were sometimes shut out of schools, movie houses and labor unions, or consigned to church pews set aside for black people. They were described in the press as 'swarthy', 'kinky haired' members of a criminal race and derided in the streets with epithets [that were more commonly] applied to enslaved Africans and their descendants[.]"

Though while Italian Americans experienced the severe racial prejudice described above, particularly during their early history in America, some were still able to benefit from their European ancestry in ways that people with non-European backgrounds were unable to. This included: being able to apply for US citizenship, being able to marry, own property, and choose where to live - things that BIPOC people often faced great barriers (if not outright bans) to accessing.

Notably, in Chicago where the Berzattos are based, the history of Italian racialisation differed to other major cities in America. In Italian Immigrants, Whiteness and Race: A Regional Perspective (p. 6) Italian historian Stefano Luconi notes that,

[I]n Chicago, Italian Americans competed primarily with Polish immigrants, who generally turned out to be less hostile to them than Irish Americans in New York City or Boston, and overall their accommodation within the adoptive society was easier than elsewhere.

Given the above, the Berzattos' connection with Polish "family members" Uncle Jimmy Kalinowski, Uncle Lee Lane, and Cousin Richie Jerimovich appears rooted in a long history of Polish-Italian relations in Chicago.

Note: Ancestry.com tells me Kalinowski is a Polish and Jewish last name. Uncle Lee identifies as "Polski" in 2x06 Fishes and in the draft script for 2x06 is listed as Uncle Jimmy's brother. While Richie's ethnicity isn't explicitly stated in The Bear, in 3x04 Violet, he refers to his daughter Eva as żabka which is Polish for "small frog" and is also used as a term of endearment for girls or women.

Eventually Italian Americans were assimilated into the racial category of "white" both legally and in the popular imagination of the country. This happened in a few ways including via Italian Americans claiming whiteness for themselves, particularly in active opposition to Black, African American communities. This is despite their historic racialisation in comparison to Black, African-descent people (which, in a better world, could have been the basis for shared and sustained solidarity between the two communities). Luconi observes that,

"in Brazos County, Texas, Italian Americans learned to claim whiteness for self-protection, which involved showing off hostility toward African Americans in the mid-1890s [...] By the same token, after realizing the social benefits of being characterized by a white identity, Italian Americans in Baltimore embraced the racist premises of the local political leadership in the early twentieth century and joined two campaigns that unsuccessfully aimed at disenfranchising African Americans in 1905 and 1909 by amending the state constitution." from: Italian Immigrants, Whiteness and Race: A Regional Perspective (p. 15)

The above NY Times article states that in 1892, the lynching of 11 Italian immigrants who were accused of killing a police chief in New Orleans resulted in Italy breaking diplomatic relations with America. As a result of this and to prevent unrest in the Italian American community, US President Benjamin Harrison proclaimed 12 October as "Columbus Day" and encouraged Americans to celebrate the contribution of the Italian Christopher Columbus to the creation of America.

Apparently, this sleight of hand (a legerdemain because it: (a) magically erased generations upon generations of First Nations who have existed in the Americas long before Columbus' arrival (and who continue to do so), and (b) because it vanished the explorer's penchant for rape and enslavement of the First Nations' people that he did encounter) was enough to reinstate diplomatic relations between America and Italy as well as carve out a place for Italian Americans in the white, American imaginary.

Indeed, despite recent calls to stop the celebration of Columbus Day led by First Nations people across America, it is Italian American organisations (including the Italian Sons and Daughters of America) and prominent Italian Americans that are some of those voices leading campaigns to keep Columbus Day as it is, reductively and disingenuously dismissing its critics as attacking Italian-American heritage.

Note: the above views are obviously not shared by all Italian Americans. See below protest staged by Italian Americans in the Berzattos' hometown of Chicago, in opposition to the city's Columbus Day Parade (Source: Fox 32 Chicago):

One of my heroes, Toni Morrison, once said of American national identity,

"In this country, American means white. Everybody else has to hyphenate."

White supremacy operates amongst racialised communities through divide and rule, with these communities pitted against one another, trying to achieve as close a proximity to whiteness as possible. In the US context, that proximity brings those communities closer to what is perceived as "American". The above examples show how some Italian American communities in America shifted the racial categorisation of their community to "white" over time by fighting for that proximity. I would argue that that shift came at a great cost, as all racism does: a cost to the BIPOC communities that were fucked over in the process and a cost to the souls of those now "white" Italian Americans who participated in divide and rule to get closer to a white supremacist position of power. Dr Resmaa Menakem would refer to those costs as traumas for both BIPOC communities and (now) white, Italian American communities.

In My Grandmother's Hands, Dr Menakem discusses the impact of racialised trauma on white people. Specifically, that white supremacy - or as Dr Menakem refers to it, "white body supremacy" - is itself a trauma response. I won't get into the details of this framework (and make this post longer than it already is lol) except to say its fascinating and I'd encourage you to read My Grandmother's Hands to find out more. Its relevance here is to illustrate that on top of our individual, personal traumas, we each carry with us racialised trauma. I make the point of articulating this because while The Bear alludes to race (sometimes masterfully as in this scene where Donna tries to play divide and rule in her own way), it often does so obliquely in ways that are not always obvious to viewers (for example, see director Ramy Youssef's discussion in Variety about the bike crash scene in 2x04 Honeydew). But make no mistake, race permeates this show.

For example, I think about Uncle Lee’s jab at Mikey in 2x06 about the latter living with his mom, and compare this to Marcus living with his mother throughout seasons 1-2 or Sydney living with her father in seasons 1-3. I think about how in many communities of colour, multi-generational living isn’t seen as shameful because the focus is not just on financial dependence but on relationships and care. Certainly, an adult child might not be financially independent but if they are caring for their parent, this is something to be valued.

I think about how the move to individualism (championed by Uncle Lee) away from family and community (features that Italian culture is historically very well known for) is a shift that, for many Italian Americans, may be viewed as a cost incurred as a result of an allegiance to white supremacy.

I think also about the words of Tema Okun, who wrote about how white supremacy shows up in organisational and professional settings in her 1999 article "White Supremacy Culture" and how in that work, Okun noted particular identifying characteristics of organisational, white supremacist culture, including (but not limited to):

individualism;

perfectionism;

either/or & binary thinking; and

a sense of urgency.

Sound familiar? I thought they might. These are traits that Carmy has exhibited in almost every episode of season 3 (and periodically in seasons 1-2). Notably, these are traits that are also valorised in the world of fine dining, as we see it through Carmy's eyes throughout season 3 (in flashbacks and in how he chooses to run The Bear). And we all know how well this shit is going for our man (lol).

I'll get into this more in an upcoming meta (again, this is me manifesting in a bid to force myself to finish writing the thing lol), but I just wanted to point out how both in terms of his racialisation and his professional career, Carmy is immersed in white supremacy - whether he wants to be or not - benefiting from its privileges while also being witness and therefore, subject, to its horrors. No one escapes this shit, not even those who've been welcomed into the fold at the top of the hierarchy.

All of this - the racialised history and trauma associated with the Italian American community as well as the clear whiteness that marks the fine dining industry - makes Carmy's character that much more fascinating to me. Here is a character with seemingly no personal prejudices towards BIPOC folks. He loves the BIPOC folks in his life quite dearly (in particular, Marcus who he treats as a brother, and of course Sydney, in whom he's found a soulmate). I think this is likely due in large part to the role Carmy's siblings (Mikey and Natalie) played in raising him. These two characters also appear to care deeply for the BIPOC people in their lives without much of the prejudice that many who have been racialised and socialised in their community might harbour. And in their roles as surrogate parents for Carmy, they appear to have modelled that healthy and normal (because we must remember, what is abnormal is racism) respect for their fellow humans. They're not perfect in this (recall 2x06 and Mikey's bombastic objectification of Claire) but we do see repeated glimpses of their goodness throughout the show (recall 3x06 and Mikey's kindness to Tina, or the pantry scene in 2x06 and the gentleness he displays towards Carmy there). This is in contrast to their mother, Donna, who clearly has done no work to prevent blowing her own racialised trauma and prejudice through the bodies of her kids.

Also while the racialisation of The Bear's BIPOC characters is readily apparent (because the white supremacist culture of the West is more attuned to looking at non-white people and automatically seeing race), its white characters are also racialised and have racialised histories. The above was my attempt at stepping out a bit of the racialisation of The Berzattos, of Carmy, and of the racialised trauma that they also carry with them.

Phew.

Okay, now back to the Berzattos...

Carmy's birth

Recall 3x08 Ice Chips and Donna telling Natalie the stories of each of her children's births. By far, the birth that appears to cause Donna the most rage, the most pain, is Carmy's. It also happens to be the only birth out of her three children that her (by all accounts) deadbeat husband is present for. Donna describes fighting with her husband during the entirety of her labour with Carmy and that the hospital was fucked because it seemed like everyone went into labour at the same time. She then tells Natalie that Carmy took a long time to arrive:

Note: Its not lost on me that Carmy's obsession with speed, rushing and sense of urgency was almost definitely drilled into him from birth, given the rage with which Donna describes his "slowness" in being born.

Donna then goes onto express how frightened she was and the further difficulties involved in Carmy’s delivery:

It was so hard and so scary because he kept getting stuck, and they just kept having to move me, and I remember they were moving me in all these positions. And then at one point, I think they had me fucking upside down or something.

And then, so brutally it becomes darkly funny (I've pushed a kid out too: it can be so painful, if you don't laugh, you'll sob hysterically lol), Donna describes Carmy's birth as just all around fucked:

The whole thing was fucked:

No seriously, very fucked:

So Carmy entered the world and the experience of his delivery was fucked nine ways to Sunday for his mother. A very difficult beginning to this life for a baby, to say the least. I would go so far as to say, given the way Donna is recounting Carmy's birth, that she experienced birth trauma, and possibly developed birth-related post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Contrast this with how Donna describes Michael's and Natalie's births:

Despite Michael also having difficulty being born (Donna recalls that it seemed like "he wanted to stay" in the safety of her womb), Donna says that she felt really good, great and strong during her labour with him and that his birth was even described by a doctor as an "amazing" one.

Donna describes Natalie's birth as "beautiful" with Natalie arriving after Donna had had a restful sleep and a vivid, prophetic dream. Donna then goes onto tell Natalie that she was delivered in the presence of a "sweet" girlfriend (Cicero's first wife, Gail) who sat with Donna during labour and who played "Baby, I Love you" for Donna as Natalie arrived.

The differences in how Donna recalls Mikey, Nat and Carmy's births and Donna's propensity in the past for holding her children's "mistakes" over their heads (recall 2x06 Fishes and the story of how Natalie got the nickname "Sugar"), make me think that she was likely to have rubbed Carmy's difficult birth in his face when he was younger. I think that Donna was also likely to have either intentionally or unintentionally (or perhaps both, depending on the circumstance) made Carmy feel less than his older siblings, maybe not as wanted. We have some evidence pointing to this happening in Carmy's past, peppered throughout the show.

Growing up in the Berzatto house:

As a child Carmy had a stutter, which causes speech to inherently slow (as it takes longer to form words and sentences). He was also scared to speak. Now a stutter in and of itself would not make the person speaking scared. Its other people's reactions to a stutter that would do that. Given Donna's vitriol at how slow Carmy's birth was, and her obsession with time (anyone fancy a kitchen timer? this lady's got 700 of them), its not a stretch to imagine that any delay in Carmy articulating himself as a child would have been met with ridicule or rage from his mother.

We know that all the Berzatto children grew up scared of their mother, a survivor of abuse herself, and an addict who drank to excess with clear mental health issues that it didn’t appear she was seeking treatment for. Recall Natalie's disclosure to Donna in 3x08 Ice Chips:

Carmy also grew up embedded in a particularly toxic type of white, heterosexual masculinity embodied by his brother Mikey and "cousin" Richie (who undoubtedly had it blown through their bodies by family, friends and the white supremacist, homophobic culture we are swimming in, in the West). I've previously discussed this in my meta on the use of 90s alternative rock in The Bear and more recently, in this reblog of @mitocamdria's meta Sublimation and Intellectual Orgasms.

Carmy gets called "a weird little dude" for knowing how to mix a drink in 2x06. He gets called a "gayrod" for owning the Noma cookbook in 1x01. He gets called a "soft shitty bitch" for calling Pete instead of Natalie in 1x05. He gets called a "mopey little fuck" in 2x06 for questioning Mikey and Richie right before they accost him with a veritable wall of gross dudebro, horndog descriptions of Claire (a girl they know and are friends with - again, fucking gross). Carmy hears his mother describe Steve as "gay" for being "arty" in 2x06 (recall that Carmy is also "arty" in that he can draw and likes fashion). If you weren't performing alpha-male dominance like Mikey, Richie, Uncle Lee or even Uncle Jimmy, the Berzatto household was a rough place to be. Truth is though, that all of those white, alpha-males have their own demons, and in the case of Mikey, those demons drove him to take his own life. The truth is that, like white supremacy, no one escapes toxic masculinity unscathed either.

We know Carmy suffered from low self-confidence as a child which might have led him to feeling aimless. He tells us in 1x08 Braciole that he got shitty grades because he couldn't pay attention in school, he didn't get into college, didn't have any girlfriends or many friends for that matter. Carmy also tells us in that same monologue that he wasn't "built" in the same way as his brother, who could walk into a room and take its temperature right away, who was loud, hilarious and magnetic.

I think about how for someone like Carmy, Mikey would have cast a long shadow. I think about how hard it would have been to have lived under that shadow while trying to figure yourself out.

It wasn't until working in fine dining that Carmy found his purpose. He says in 1x08,

For the first time in my life, I started to find this station for myself.

This must have been intoxicating and affirming for Carmy. Yet I think about how, after all that, he could return home having achieved accolades and fanfare in his career, try his best in the chaos of a Berzatto family Christmas to diffuse the powder keg that is Donna, and still be called "Michael" by his mother, his very existence in that moment, feeling like a puff of smoke.

We also know that Carmy's eldest siblings ended up being like surrogate parents for him. Mikey almost certainly was a father figure given the absence of his biological father in Carmy's life. Its not a stretch to imagine Natalie as taking on the role of a surrogate mother, given Donna's abuse and how Natalie looks out for almost everyone throughout seasons 1-3 of The Bear. In this video, Jeremy Allen White also talks about the tattoo Carmy has of two angels with a sun in between them as representing his brother and his sister, further confirming the roles of his "guardian angel" siblings.

I think about Natalie, parentified big sister that she is, sneaking a wad of cash into Carmy’s pocket as he leaves her and Chicago for New York in 3x01. I think about her calling him “honey” in that same episode as she affirms that she knows how good he is at being a chef - “honey” being a term of endearment commonly used in family settings but between parents and their children, not as commonly heard between siblings.

I also think about Mikey being born the eldest, the first and only (for a time) to have to deal with his mother's trauma and expectations. I think about how he took on the work of looking after his mother and his siblings when his father left the Berzatto home. I think about how Mikey is described by the actor who plays him, as a "dreamer who's not allowed to dream. He has to take care of everybody."

Loose ends

Another set of incidents haunting spread throughout season 3 also raised concerns for me, in that they remain unresolved and point to a resolution or confrontation for Carmy and the Berzattos in season 4. I named them in my reblog of @espumado's post on The Night of the Hunter. For ease of reference, I'll bullet point them here:

Carmy finds a box labelled "DD" (his mother, Donna's nickname) at The Bear at the end of 3x05 and looks through it. He appears frozen as he finds a baby photo of his mother holding a baby I assume is him. The episode ends at this moment and neither the box or Carmy's reaction are revisited for the remainder of season 3

Cicero tells Carmy during 3x09 that Donna wants Carmy to call her back about "the baby" (one assumes this is a reference to Natalie's baby) and that Carmy has been "fucking avoiding it" (one assumes again that the "it" here is the baby...but maybe its also just the act of calling Donna back)

But then Carmy says something strange:

Yeah. Hoping it would just go away.

Surely, Carmy's not talking about a baby. Babies can't just go away. And I don't think Carmy is so malicious that he'd wish his sister's child to disappear. I also don't think Carmy would refer to his mother as "it" (he's never done so up to this point on the show, as monstrous as she can be).

And in case you were wondering, Cicero's response to Carmy also doesn't sound like it applies to a baby or Donna (lol):

[Y]ou run right the fuck into it.

Intergenerational trauma and legacy

So what is the "it" that Carmy wants to go away? What is the "it" that Uncle Jimmy tells him to face by running "right the fuck into it"? My suspicion is that this is Carmy's baggage. The baggage that comes with being born a Berzatto and being born to Donna. All the stuff that we've been talking about here. Its also the baggage that both Nat and his mother have been trying to "put away":

Above from 3x02 Next: Natalie in conversation with Carmy. "Its not great 8am stuff."

Above from 3x08 Ice Chips: Donna in conversation with Natalie.

Carmy is trying to do this too: put away his baggage, while having been the "Lost Child" (referring to ACA roles and the recording about them that Natalie was listening to at the end of 3x07 Legacy) and the youngest child in his family for so long but now having to be the "Hero". @vacationship's post on ACA roles as they relate to The Bear gives a great breakdown on what the "lost child" and "hero" roles mean.

In the LA Times interview mentioned above, Jeremy Allen White says,

I don't think Carm's ever been outside of himself enough to really take in another person in their entirety, sadly. I think that's Carmen's real struggle.

As the youngest child of the Berzattos, Carmy has never had to step outside of himself to the extent that Mikey, Natalie or even Donna have had to. He has never had to care for anyone other than himself, until he inherits The Beef. And that responsibility is a HUGE one.

But Carmy jumps into that role, initially fuelled by the desire to retroactively fix his relationship with Mikey and fix "the family". Recall again his monologue in 1x08 Braciole:

[I]ts very clear to me trying to fix the restaurant, was me trying to fix whatever was happening with my brother. And I don't know, maybe fix the whole family because that restaurant, it has and it does mean a lot to people. It means a lot to me.

For the longest time, I interpreted "the family" that Carmy refers to here as his chosen family: the crew at The Beef. I think that while that was true, it wasn't the whole picture. I think Carmy was actually being more expansive in his definition of family to include his entire family: chosen and birth.

So while Carmy is obviously trying to make The Bear a success for Sydney ("Syd, we're going to get a star") and for Marcus ("Take us there Bear", "Yes, Chef"), as well as for the rest of the chosen family he first found at The Beef, Carmy is also trying to fix the restaurant for the Berzattos. Specifically, Carmy is trying to do what his father and brother couldn't do in keeping The Beef/The Bear going. He is trying to embody the Hero ACA role, vacated by Mikey with the latter's passing, even though his sister told him from the start, in 1x01:

No one's asking you to.

What I think I took for granted this season was just how much Carmy's desire to repair the legacy of the father figures in his life (as represented by the restaurant) was brought to an urgent and frenetic head for him in the late stages of Natalie's pregnancy. Upon rewatch of 3x09 Apologies, I picked up on some interesting script choices and imagery that I think have been chosen purposefully to relay to us that this is the case and that the impending birth of his niece is indeed, weighing on Carmy.

Now, at the start of 3x09, Carmy may or may not know Natalie has just had her baby. I assume he does. After Marcus watches that clip about magic, followed by unnecessary Fak, Claire and dumpster content (lol) and then Sydney practising how she's going to break Shapiro's offer to Carmy, we cut to the kitchen of The Bear and we hear Carmy calling out orders while running expo. He's yelling again. His voice is hoarse like it was in 3x03 during his panic attack. We see Carmy's intrusive thoughts at a rapid clip intercut with close ups of his, Sydney's and Richie's faces. We also hear Carmy repeatedly yelling at the staff to push:

Please give me the fucking agnolotti. Push.

Lets fucking push, please. Lets fucking go.

Push, please.

Push, chefs! Please! The cook is fucked. Refire, please.

Push.

From a quick google, "push" is used in restaurant settings but not in the way Carmy's doing here. I've seen it used to mean "sell" an item (as in getting a server to "push" a particular dish to diners so they order it) as well as to describe a busy period during service (as in the restaurant is in the middle of a "push").

In 3x09, Carmy is yelling “push” like a midwife at his sister's side while she pushes out her child, the next generation of Berzattos, into the world. But instead of his niece, Carmy is trying to deliver one more in a litany of dinner services at The Bear.

Note: you can clearly see here that the jagged lines that have appeared since season 1 when Carmy is having intrusive thoughts are actually made up of what look to be hundreds of claw marks. I've noted in a previous reblog of one of @thoughtfulchaos773's posts (that I can't find atm sorry) that this evokes Carmy (the Bear) trying to claw his way out of a mental spiral and back to equilibrium. @currymanganese also noted that the lines themselves look like a neural network, driving the point about Carmy's mental state home.

And then directly after the above "push" scene, we see copious amounts of water ejected over the The Bear's kitchen island, washing away flesh coloured food and sauce that looks like blood splatter:

Having rewatched 3x09 through the lens of intergenerational trauma, with the spectre of Natalie's labour, Carmy's apparent resistance to seeing Natalie or her baby, and having just heard his hoarse voice screaming push, push, push...to me this water started looking a whole lot like birth waters breaking, and amniotic fluid flooding The Bear:

Note: Rest assured, amniotic fluid doesn't contain all those suds.

@espumado pointed out in their The Night of the Hunter meta that the song playing during the above "push" and "broken waters" scenes of 3x09 is a song by Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch from a war documentary. The song is "The Forever Rain" from the documentary series The Vietnam War by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick. I'm sure its no coincidence that a song from a documentary about the Vietnam War - a war whose veterans were the first to be assessed for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) - is being used in a scene acting as an allegory for childbirth, given what we know about how traumatic Carmy's birth was for his mother, and inevitably, for him as an infant.

So why is Carmy so preoccupied with Natalie's pregnancy and the birth of his niece?

I think this all ties back to what Carmy told us in 1x08: that he wants to fix the restaurant (and in the context of season 3, this means making The Bear a success) and that in doing so, fix his family.

Note: which is also why I think we are shown that magic clip that Marcus is watching at the beginning of 3x09 with this bit of dialogue from it: "What makes magic different is that its inherently honest. You tell someone you're gonna deceive them before you deceive them. In some way, that makes it more difficult." We were told in 1x08 what the restaurant means to Carmy and his reasons for fixing it, but Storer and co have spent all of season 3 distracting us with Claire and Fak-shaped sleights of hand getting us looking elsewhere to understand Carmy's behaviour. By 3x10, Carmy's motives haven't changed. He's doing this for his family. All of his family.

Specifically in the context of Nat's pregnancy, Carmy wants to ensure that The Bear is a success for the next generation of Berzatto children, for his niece. And if Carmy is being haunted by a need to fix his family's legacy, particularly given the impending arrival of Natalie's baby - the youngest Berzatto after him - then his desperate, rageful plea to Syd after she brings him back from his panic attack in 3x03 Doors, is even more distressing:

They're going too fucking slow!

What Carmy means is:

I'm going too slow and this restaurant is going to fail because of it. And this baby is going to inherit my failure, just like I inherited Mikey's and just like he inherited our father's.

Remember: Natalie is a part owner of The Bear and so any financial failure of the restaurant will be felt by her and her family just as it would be felt by Carm.

What Carmy needs to realise is that while a brick and mortar institution may fail, what remains are the relationships, the people that he has met because of it (shout out to Chef Terry and her speech in 3x10 Forever, also shout out to Mikey and his chat with Tina in 3x06 Napkins). And if there are people - if there are relationships - there's always the chance to build another future together, again.

Conclusion (yep, I'm almost done)

I think about how whether he likes it or not, Carmy was able to pursue his passion in cooking because of his family’s racial (and class) privilege, particularly as a member of a community that was invited to join in the spoils of white supremacy. This privilege was most clearly embodied by the fact that the Berzattos had the means to own The Beef and the culinary opportunities for Carmy that flowed from that work and experience (contrast this with Sydney, Marcus and Tina's experiences in entering this field, which I've discussed here and which @freedelusionshere discusses here).

I think about how Carmy subverted and used that privilege to bring along the original crew of The Beef with him to The Bear, lifting up his largely BIPOC employees. And then I think about how he ran roughshod over them in order to try and meet the insane expectations he'd set for himself (in large part, as a result of his family's history).

I think about the safety net that Carmy had with Natalie and Mikey who were there to take care of The Beef, their family and their unwell mother, giving Carmy the room to find himself professionally. I think about Mikey leaving behind a restaurant for Carmy but also leaving behind an entire family for him too.

I think about Carmy not realising that while The Beef was a burden in some ways, it was a blessing in so many others.

I think about the clear intergenerational trauma that Carmy is contending with while trying to balance so many perceived, competing demands.

I also think about Donna's dream, the night she went into labour with Natalie:

In this nothing dream, I mean nothing dream. And it wasn't Chicago, and it wasn't New York. It was some sort of hybrid city, you know? And there was a fish tank. Big fish tank in the middle of the city. It was this giant fish tank, and I was the only one looking at it.

[...]

And I remember the colours were, they were so sharp and vivid and neon, you know, and I was the only one looking at it.

[...]

I was just staring at it for the longest time. And all of a sudden, I noticed that the glass started to come apart like it was gonna split. But I wasn't worried, you know? It wasn't bad, because I knew that more people were gonna get to see these beautiful fish.

And then I woke up, and I was sweating, and my water had broke.

When Donna had her children, she had no idea that she would lose her eldest child to suicide. She likely had no idea how far she was going to push her daughter away from her due to her abuse, and she most certainly did not know that her youngest would cease contact with her for years while becoming a renowned chef. None of us parents know for certain how things are going to turn out for our children, or for our relationships with them.

We can only hope, and do our best: do our best to break harmful cycles while trying to nurture children who will leave the world a better place than it was when when they arrived. And if our kids manage to do this not because of us but in spite of us, in spite of our slip ups and mistakes, in spite of our baggage, then honestly, we should be even prouder of them. Because it meant they were able to integrate our trauma, our histories, and their trauma, and their histories, all of it, and make something beautiful, something better.

And I think I can see why Donna wasn't worried when the fish tank started to crack. I get why she was so happy that more people were going to get to see her beautiful children and the world they were going to create, in spite of everything and because of everything.

As usual, tagging folks who might be interested (absolutely no pressure to read this fucking long ass thing though), but keen to hear from anyone who wants to discuss:

@currymanganese @thoughtfulchaos773 @moodyeucalyptus @vacationship @mitocamdria @brokenwinebox @espumado @tvfantic87 @turbulenthandholding @anxietycroissant @angelica4equity @devisrina @kdbleu @freedelusionshere @ambeauty @afrofairysblog @fresaton @hwere @ciaomarie @ambeauty

[techramonic]

What is Pain? : How Austin Eubanks Dealt with Addiction and the Aftermath of Columbine.

Austin and Corey

Stephen Austin Eubanks was a junior and a star student in Columbine High School. Corey Tyler DePooter, his best friend, was also a particularly gifted student who prioritized his studies over anything else. Despite having a wide range of interests, the two kids particularly bonded over their shared passion for fishing.

At the age of 17, Corey had gotten a job doing maintenance at a golf club in order to earn money for a fishing boat that he planned to buy with a friend — likely Austin. The two often used to go fishing together and would talk about the struggles they had as teenagers.

Day of the Tragedy

On April 20th of 1999, the two were inside the library getting ready to get lunch with their friends, Jennifer Doyle and Peter Ball. That was until they had heard shots fired from the outside, not recognizing the sounds and believing that it was only the sounds of construction. Then they heard a bomb go off, a teacher rushing in to scream for the students to hide underneath the table because two students were armed with guns.

In a state of shock and fear, the four duck under the same table near the windows. With 10 minutes passing, the shooters had already entered the library and methodically fired under each table as recalled by him. His best friend, Corey, was one of those who were shot after being aimed with a semi-automatic rifle and shot at the neck, chest, and left arm by Dylan Klebold.

The bullet that hit Austin's hand first passed through his best friend, killing him instantly. With his best friend lying lifelessly beside him and being wounded on his hand and knee, Austin had no other choice than to try to play dead while laying in a pool of blood. When the shooting had stopped, Austin ran through the smoke and out of the backdoor of the library. He was only 17 when the shooting occured.

In Austin's TedTalk “What Columbine Shooting taught me about pain and addiction”, he recalls:

"I remember how I felt: I was confused, I was afraid, I felt sick and I was vulnerable. And just minutes later, I was playing dead underneath a table next to a pool of blood. I had just been shot and I witnessed my best friend murdered right in front of me as we were huddled together waiting for help to come."

Pain, Grief, and Narcotics

During the time he fled from the crime scene, Austin marked that as one of the most impacting and damaging experiences he has ever experienced in regards to the feeling of pain. His definition of pain was nothing similar to what he describes in his present days.

Pain, in a medical sense, is the variably unpleasant sensation of physiological systems mediated by specific nerve fibers of the brain that are conscious of receiving signals of awareness. According to Austin's TedTalk, the American Pain Society introduced the term "pain is the fifth vital sign" in 1996. This means that when you enter the room, your status is assessed using five different data points: blood pressure, pulse rate, temperature, respiration rate, and pain.

Due to a movement that was certain that we were undertreating pain, patient satisfaction surveys were implemented in order to monitor the campaign's success. To him, in order to uphold this new momentum and cause the patient's pain levels to cease completely, the ethical dilemma instantly arose:

“Do I issue this person with narcotics to make them happy or deny them and potentially hurt my compensation, the revenue of the hospital? Or at worse, open myself up for a grievance for undertreating pain that could potentially result in the loss of my job?”

Austin says that the healthcare system predominantly treats physiological systems and would rather not assess emotional pain into the equation. He akins the emotional pain of dealing with trauma being identical or if not more than when dealing with physical pain. With that, within months after the incident, Austin was prescribed opiate medication for his injuries.

In an exclusive interview with The Fix, he said that his injuries were not to the point of needing an opiate pain medication but was immediately given a 30-day supply and became addicted within three months. From then on, he said, “I used substances every day, day in and day out.”

After the shooting, his parents took him to a therapist who said Austin was too shut down to process his horrific trauma. But the reason no one could reach him was because he was overmedicated. He was addicted to painkillers, and used medication because of his unwillingness to engage in the stages of grief that he dreaded to face. He was haunted by the past. Struggling with survivor's guilt and the death of his best friend, he would rather ignore the intense burdening feelings he bore. According to him,

“Acute Physical Pain ends relatively quickly, complex emotional pain does not.”

The morphine Eubanks received at the hospital that day proved to be the opening dose of a costly addiction to prescription painkillers - one that revolved around commonly prescribed drug Oxycontin, he said.

“I learned to manipulate doctors … I could literally get whatever I wanted. Telling them I’d been shot at Columbine and lost my best friend was like [getting] an open prescription book from any doctor.”

He could not process the grief, moreso, he didn't want to. He didn't want to be haunted by the memories that scarred him. In his own words, he would describe the physical ailments he felt to be a 4 or 5, but the emotional turmoil was a 10.

Austin never set foot back to Columbine. His parents hired a tutor and he then went on to graduate in 2000. He attended the Columbine ceremonies but never went back inside the school. He then went into advertising and married in his early 20s. Around this time his substance abuse escalated, and his first attempt to get sober was in 2006. He went into a 30-day inpatient program but failed within hours of leaving, for  relapsing using pain pills and Adderall. 

Addiction and Sobriety 

He failed both outpatient and rehab twice and it wasn't until 10 years later, in 2009 that he was able to overcome this addiction. Right before Columbine, young Austin had been misdiagnosed with ADD. 

“I didn’t have ADD,” said Eubanks. “I just liked being outdoors and playing golf better than being in school. At that time, if anybody was truant at school they said, ‘Oh, they must be ADD. Let’s put them on a stimulant.’ That was why I got Adderall. I liked it because I could abuse opiate pain medication to the level that most people would be nodding out. With Adderall, I could function. Basically, I was doing oral speedballs. It was like using methamphetamine and heroin.”

His second try at being sober was in 2008. Gaining the motivation to change after recently separating from his wife, he went to treatment, stayed 90 days, and achieved eight months of sobriety. Then, he akinned addiction to a causal sequence, a domino effect. According to him, he achieved abstinence for a period of time, built up enough false confidence to where he thought he could drink, because alcohol was never a problem. From alcohol, he went to weed, then Xanax, then Oxycontin, and then back into the same routine.

In 2011, approaching the age of 30 and estranged from his wife and kids, he hit rock bottom: "My sobriety date is April 2, 2011. I woke up in a jail cell and had no clue how I got there." His downward spiral began with Oxycontin and alcohol abuse, leading to arrests for various offenses like car theft and fraud. Realizing that he needed a drastic change, he recounted that his lowest moment was waking up in withdrawal, hungover, and facing the ruins of his marriage and being estranged from his children. He knew he had to stop or he would die. After unsuccessful attempts at sobriety, he finally sought help, surrendered to treatment, and was now willing to follow any guidance to rebuild his life.

His journey to lasting sobriety didn't hinge on traditional 12-step programs, but rather on understanding behavioral triggers and brain function through a therapeutic community approach. He was five years sober and started working at The Foundry in Colorado, becoming the COO and handling approaches that combined neuroscience with 12-step principles, recognizing that each person's path to recovery is unique. Using comprehensive approaches aiming to rebuild the lives of those in recovery.

During this time, he would also indulge in old activities in remembrance of his bestfriend.

“It’s something I do to connect with Corey. It's always nice whenever I catch a fish that's above the normal or something special about it. I always tend to look up and give a nod to him. And I know he’s still looking out for me."

Sadly, despite his long battle against drug addiction, in 2019, Austin had passed away in his home in Colorado after an accidental heroin overdose. Just a month after the 20th anniversary of Columbine, Austin was 37 at the time.

What is Pain?

Pain, to Austin, encompassed many things: the confusion and vulnerability of not knowing what to do in such a time of terror, the physical wounds that the doctors tried to medicate to bring the pain meter to zero, and most importantly, the emotional hurt of knowing your best friend was gone, taken right in front of you. Knowing that very moment can never be undone.

His advice for survivors dealing with the same guilt is to feel it. Don't run away from it. Survivors often find other things that allow them to detach from the pain, but to him, that's the wrong choice.

“You can heal physical pain while you’re medicating it. You cannot heal emotional pain while you are medicating it, In order to heal emotional pain, you have to feel it ... You want to feel better immediately, [but] you have to have the courage to sit in and feel it, and if you can do that long enough, you will come out on the other side.”

Along with post-traumatic stress, there is also the potential for post-traumatic growth.

“That doesn’t imply you will ever be the same person again. After a trauma, you will be changed forever.”

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance (Part 5)

(steddie | explicit | @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt "make up sex" | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001), Top!Steve, Bottom!Eddie, emotional sex | Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Find the whole thing on AO3

“Eddie,” Steve half-laughed, half-gasped, “Eddie, come on, let me open the door before we get arrested for public indecency.”

Eddie groaned against Steve’s neck, where he’d been busy leaving a trail of marks, but he loosened his tight grip just enough for Steve to fish his keys out of his pocket. It took him a few attempts—Eddie’s hot mouth biting and licking along his skin made it hard to concentrate—but with a triumphant little “A-ha!” Steve managed to push the door to his apartment open. The two men stumbled inside, into the darkness of the hallway.

For once, Steve was grateful that Robin had moved in with her girlfriend about a year ago, leaving him to find an affordable place on his own. If they were still roommates, he and Eddie would have had to come up with some other plan for alone time after sneaking out of the event.

A pang of guilt hit him for leaving his date behind so abruptly. Lisa had been great—a woman he could have seen himself with if he hadn’t just realized, with absolute clarity, that his perfect match was standing right in front of him. He silently vowed to ask the agency to send her a gift with a note that read something like, “I’m so, so sorry for being such an ass, but the love of my life came back, and I couldn’t let him slip away again.”

Before he could finish the thought, he was slammed against the wall with a soft “Oomph!” The impact knocked the breath out of him, but Steve barely had time to inhale before Eddie’s mouth was on his again, eager and demanding, lips soft and tongue insistent. Who needed air, anyway, when he had Eddie Munson’s kisses to keep him alive?

They kept kissing, the only sounds in the dark hallway their ragged breaths and the soft, wet glide of their mouths against each other. Steve had missed this—not just the physical attraction or the raw, undeniable chemistry that made every moment with Eddie electric, but something deeper. He'd had plenty of sex with plenty of people before and after Eddie, some of it really good, even great. But it almost felt unfair to compare anyone to Eddie.

Because what he missed most was the way Eddie made him feel.

For most of his life, Steve felt like he was just playing a series of roles: the obedient son, the all-American golden boy, the Casanova, the babysitter, the chauffeur. All these personas crafted to win attention, admiration, maybe even affection. Some kind of love.

But with Eddie, none of those roles mattered. With Eddie, he was enough. More than enough. He was everything. He could feel it in every touch, every brush of Eddie’s fingers along his cheek and down his neck. He heard it in the way Eddie’s breath hitched whenever Steve touched him back. He tasted it in Eddie’s fervent kisses, the way he couldn't seem to stop himself from claiming Steve's mouth, over and over again. Most of all, Steve could see it in Eddie’s gaze—a gaze that found him like a compass needle pointing true north, no matter the room or the crowd.

To feel Eddie’s undivided attention on him again, after being deprived of it for so long, was almost overwhelming.

When their lips finally parted to gulp down much-needed air, Steve rested his forehead against Eddie’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. He stared into Eddie's eyes, illuminated faintly by the light filtering through the street lamps outside. He hadn’t even had time to flip on the lights before Eddie was on him, and it felt like they were teenagers again—caught in that intoxicating swirl of hormones and love, a heady mix that made him feel drunk on desire.

"Are you sure?" Eddie whispered in the tiny space between them. At Steve's soft, questioning sound, Eddie nudged his nose against Steve’s and clarified, "I feel like if we keep going, we're headed straight for a home run. And I'd love that, Stevie, more than anything. But only if it’s what you want, too. Whatever happens next, I’m all in—completely and enthusiastically. If you send me home right now and tell me to call you tomorrow, I’d go, and I’d spend the whole night thinking about everything I want to learn about you and your life here, everything I want to share about mine. If you asked me to come to bed and just hold you, I’d feel like the luckiest bastard alive."

Eddie finally drew in a breath, like he’d been holding it in since he started speaking. Then he gave Steve that smile—the one Steve could easily fall in love with if he hadn’t already been there for years.

A giddy laugh escaped Steve, unable to help himself. "How could you not know?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow, amused. "Know what?"

"I’ve been sure since the first time you kissed me," Steve replied, "and then tried to bolt in a panic—until you realized you still couldn’t walk very far and fell down like a baby giraffe."

Eddie snorted, joining in the laughter. “You make me sound incredibly suave and sexy.”

With a grin, Steve tugged Eddie closer by the lapel of his coat and kissed him again, keeping it sweet and teasing. “Oh, you are, baby. So suave. So sexy.”

Eddie placed a hand over his heart with a mock-offended look. “Now you’re just mocking me. I’m mortally wounded—the knife twisted by the very man who owns my heart. Et tu, Brutus—”

Steve decided to silence Eddie’s theatrical rambling with another kiss, deeper this time, while pushing Eddie's coat off his shoulders. Eddie’s words melted into a pleased hum as Steve’s fingers moved deftly, unbuttoning Eddie’s shirt.

“I’m sure,” Steve panted against Eddie’s lips, pausing just long enough to look him in the eye. “I want this. I want you. We’ll figure out the rest, step by step.”

“You have me, sweetheart, for as long as you want me,” Eddie vowed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m done running.”

“Good,” Steve whispered, his voice quiet but sure. It felt like time had stopped around them, the air between them thick and heavy like warm honey. Suddenly, Steve wanted nothing more than to see Eddie clearly, to look into those familiar brown eyes that always gave everything away.

Steve quickly shrugged off his own coat and pulled his shirt over his head. He couldn't help but smirk at the soft groan Eddie let out, his hands instantly finding their way to Steve’s chest, fingers threading through his chest hair. “God, I missed this. My precious.”

Steve chuckled, hooking his fingers into Eddie’s waistband and starting to tug him toward the bedroom. “I see your weird obsession with my chest hair is still going strong,” he teased.

Eddie followed him eagerly, his hands roaming over Steve’s skin like he was trying to memorize the feel of him all over again. “Can you blame me?”

Finally reaching the bedroom, Steve wasted no time pulling Eddie toward the bed, pushing him down onto the mattress. Eddie bounced, laughing with delight at how the scene felt like it could be from a cheesy porno. But his laughter quickly faded when Steve flicked on the bedside lamp and let his hands drift down his chest toward his waistband, making a show of getting undressed. Steve popped the button on his jeans, his hips swaying with a teasing slowness. His hands slid down his muscular thighs, accentuated by the tight fit of his Levi’s, before moving back up to tug at the zipper.

Just as Steve grabbed the waistband to pull his jeans down, Eddie slid off the bed, dropping to his knees in front of him in one fluid motion. Steve caught the slight wince that crossed Eddie’s face.

“You okay, baby?” Steve asked, concern threading through his voice. He knew Eddie had a habit of hurting himself in the name of sexiness.

Eddie chuckled, nodding. “Just my knees reminding me of the inevitable passage of time.”

Steve’s fingers threaded through Eddie’s curls, still as full and dark as they were the first time he’d done this. “Is that your way of telling me I should go easy on you, old man?”

He wasn’t prepared for Eddie’s response—a swift, almost desperate yank at the back of his thighs that pulled him closer, Eddie’s face nuzzling against the hard length straining against the metal of his open fly. The wet heat of Eddie’s mouth through the thin fabric of Steve’s boxer briefs was enough to draw a low, needy moan from his lips.

“Easy on me?” Eddie rasped, his voice already rough like he’d spent hours worshiping Steve’s body. “That’s the last thing I want. I want to make up for every single day we lost. I want you to claim me all over again, and then I want to return the favor. I want to forget there was ever a time I didn’t belong to you.”

With that, Eddie tugged Steve’s pants and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving him completely bare under Eddie's ravenous gaze. Eddie licked his lips like a starving man eyeing his favorite meal. The intensity in Eddie's eyes sent a wave of heat through Steve, his body already trembling with anticipation.

“You know, the first time I saw you naked, my first thought was how fucking unfair it was," Eddie murmured, almost sounding offended even as his gaze raked over Steve's body. "How can everything about you be so goddamn pretty… even your dick?”

His voice was thick with admiration, his long, dexterous fingers wrapping around Steve’s hard length in exactly the way Steve loved. Steve opened his mouth to respond, but the words got lost in his throat as Eddie, wasting no time, sank his mouth down over Steve’s cock. The wet heat, the sensation of Eddie's lips and tongue, overwhelmed him, making his knees nearly buckle.

In the five years they'd been together, they had learned each other inside and out, knew exactly how to make the other come in mere minutes, how to touch and kiss and lick and fuck until the other was a trembling mess. So it didn’t surprise Steve that Eddie still knew every single thing that drove him mad with lust. Eddie’s clever tongue focused on the head of his cock, teasing the slit, swirling around it, before suddenly sinking down in one smooth move until his nose was buried in Steve’s pubic hair.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed, doubling over as his hands gripped Eddie’s curls tightly, anchoring himself in place. He felt Eddie smirk around him, clearly proud of the reaction he’d provoked. But Steve couldn’t even begin to care, not when Eddie started moving up and down his length, his tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, tracing the vein, humming with pleasure every time he hit the back of Eddie’s throat. It was the sweetest kind of torture, Eddie’s mouth working him over with practiced ease while he gazed up at Steve with those dark, adoring eyes. Like blowing Steve was a privilege, like Steve himself was a wonder Eddie had been lucky enough to find.

It wasn’t like Steve had lived like a monk all these years. If anything, his stamina had only improved with age and experience. But somehow, with Eddie worshiping him on his knees, he felt like he was seconds away from the edge, like he could come just from the way Eddie looked at him.

“Baby, if you want a home run tonight, you gotta stop,” he managed to gasp out, his voice breathless as if he’d just finished a marathon — though, knowing from experience, marathon sex with Eddie could be even more exhausting than an actual marathon.

Eddie reluctantly pulled off, taking a moment to catch his breath before playfully biting Steve’s hipbone. “Remember when we could go several rounds in one night?” He sighed with mock wistfulness, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

“Actually, Robin and I decided to repress the entire era when Reagan was president,” Steve replied with a grin. Then he carefully pulled Eddie back up to his feet, mindful of his knees that had seen better days. No one warned them that hitting their mid-thirties would feel like this. His respect for Hopper, Joyce, and even Murray had grown exponentially since getting closer and closer to the age they were when they first battled monsters from the Upside Down. Some days, he didn’t even feel like running to catch the bus.

They shared a kiss that started almost chaste — if not for the lingering taste of Steve on Eddie’s tongue. “Catcher or pitcher?” he asked, a playful edge to his voice.

“Huh?” Eddie looked dazed from the kiss, swaying forward like he was chasing Steve’s lips. The sight was impossibly endearing.

Steve chuckled softly. “You wanna catch or pitch? You know, for our home run.”

To Steve's surprise, Eddie let out a pained groan at the question. “I hope you know I blame you and only you for the fact that I even get that fucking metaphor, let alone finding it as hot as I do.”

Smirking, Steve reached out to cup the bulge in Eddie's pants. "Hmmm. I don’t know, this doesn’t feel like you’re all that mad about it, Munson." He squeezed, delighting in the way Eddie twitched beneath his hand. "And you still haven’t answered me. You wanna spread me out on my bed and make me take this," he said, stroking Eddie through his jeans, "inch by inch, feel me squeeze tight and hot around you?” Eddie’s hips jerked into Steve’s touch, a needy whimper escaping his lips at the image Steve was painting with his words.

“Or do you want me to undress you slowly," Steve continued, "lay you down, lick and finger you open until you’re begging for me? Let me give you everything you want, take you apart and put you back together? Hold you down and fuck you so good you forget everyone else who ever touched you but me?”

Steve had never been one for sharing, and while he didn’t hold it against Eddie that there had been others while they were apart — he had been with other people too, after all — a darker, more primal part of him wanted to remind Eddie exactly who he belonged to.

His hand never stopped teasing, and by now Eddie was clutching Steve's forearms tightly, his hips undulating, seeking more friction, more pleasure. "This. That. What you just said. Please, Stevie. Want you to."

“Want me to what?” Steve demanded, his voice low, rough with need. He wanted Eddie to say it. He needed Eddie to say it.

“Want you to show me I’m yours,” Eddie breathed, eyes dark with desire.

And who was Steve to deny them what they both so obviously wanted?

He kept his promise and undressed Eddie slowly, his hands trembling with the need to explore every inch of the beloved body beneath them once more. He found new tattoos, but also a few more scars that hadn't been there the last time they were like this. Steve made a mental note to ask Eddie about them later. Right now, he simply pressed soft kisses against each new mark he discovered, silently vowing to love them as much as he loved every other part of Eddie.

Once they were both naked, Steve murmured for Eddie to get onto the bed on all fours. Eddie obeyed without hesitation — a miracle in itself, showing just how much he needed this, needed him. Steve took a moment to gather the lube and condoms from the bedside drawer. He took a moment to mourn the fact that they had to use a condom, wishing he could feel Eddie bare, skin to skin, but he knew it was the right thing to do. At least until they could talk about being exclusive again and get tested.

When he turned back toward the bed, Steve's breath hitched at the sight before him. Miles of pale skin stretched out before him, adorned with black ink and pink scars, old and fresh alike — testaments to the battles Eddie had fought and survived. His body was leaner, his shoulders broader, his arms more defined, but he still retained that wiry frame that always drove Steve wild. Eddie's cock hung full and heavy between his spread legs, his back arched in a way that put his ass on perfect display, open and inviting, ready for Steve to take.

"You should take a picture, might last you longer," Eddie teased, glancing over his shoulder with a wicked grin.

Steve chuckled, momentarily caught off guard by the idea. He still had a few grainy, clandestine photos of Eddie from back in the day, capturing their moments in bed, raw and unguarded. The thought was tempting, and he mentally filed it away for later. For now, he put the lube and condoms within reach and settled in behind Eddie, his hands moving instantly to the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass, stroking and squeezing, relishing the heat and softness under his palms.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, unable to keep the awe from his voice, feeling Eddie shiver beneath his touch.

Determined to show Eddie exactly how much he meant every word, Steve leaned in, diving between those enticing cheeks without hesitation. His tongue, wet and insistent, teased at Eddie's rim, making a point to keep it as sloppy as possible. He knew how much Eddie loved the filthy, wet sounds and the sensation of spit trickling down to his balls.

Eddie’s hoarse moans, punctuated by his breathless mix of praise and pleading, were like music to Steve’s ears. One of his favorite things about sex with Eddie was how unapologetically loud and expressive he was — just as passionate in bed as he was about everything else in life. For Steve, his partner's pleasure had always been paramount, and knowing he could make Eddie feel this way filled him with a deep, satisfying pride.

It had been a revelation for Steve when he realized that his talents with his mouth could be applied to a man just as effectively as with all the girls he'd been with during his days as King Steve. Back then, his oral skills were the stuff of legend, and when he figured out how to use them on Eddie, they’d both reached new heights of sexual fulfillment.

“Oh my god,” Eddie gasped, voice raw and strained as he pressed the words out between desperate moans. “Your fucking mouth.”

Steve chuckled against him, tongue still buried inside, amused by the way Eddie unknowingly mirrored his own thoughts. He knew he could make Eddie come like this, with just his mouth — he’d done it many times before — but tonight, they had something different in mind. Reluctantly, he pulled back, biting playfully at the plush curve of Eddie's right cheek before grabbing the lube from the pillow beside Eddie’s head.

His first finger slipped inside easily; Eddie was already stretched by his tongue, his body pliant and eager. Steve could feel the heat and tightness around his finger, and as much as he wanted to draw this out, to tease Eddie until he was a trembling mess, his own need was overwhelming. He wanted to be as close to Eddie as humanly possible, to feel every inch of him, to erase every bit of distance that had ever been between them.

One finger was soon joined by another, Eddie’s body yielding easily, drawing Steve in. “Taking it so well, baby. So eager for me to fuck you, huh?”

“Ye-yes, fuck, please, don’t need another finger, just you, I—” Another moan, high and needy, slipped from Eddie’s lips. “I can take it, you know I can,” he babbled, hips pushing back against Steve’s hand, fucking himself on his long fingers. Eddie was right; Steve knew he could sink in just like this. They’d always used their fingers to drive each other wild, not because they needed the stretching. When they were too impatient or time was scarce, they’d often skip the foreplay altogether.

Steve had wanted to take his time, to make up for all the days and nights they’d missed, but he realized there was too much pent-up desire, too much yearning for each other. The need to be close was overwhelming in its intensity. They could take their time later, once the burning urgency had softened into something slower and more languid.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” Steve promised, stroking Eddie’s trembling back like he was soothing a skittish animal. He could feel the tension in Eddie’s body, taut and electric. “Eddie, baby, can you turn around for me?” His hands continued their gentle path, trying to calm whatever had Eddie on edge.

Eddie turned slowly, reluctantly, until he was sitting in front of Steve again. He was still hard, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, and his dark eyes were wide and uncertain. His bottom lip, red and swollen from his own teeth, trembled as he avoided Steve’s gaze.

“What’s going on? You seem nervous. Do you want to stop?” Steve asked, his voice filled with concern. Eddie had been so eager, so hungry for this — but what if he felt pressured, like he had to do it just to keep Steve?

Eddie shook his head but kept his eyes downcast, something clearly weighing on his mind. Steve reached out, lacing their fingers together, and brought Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You can talk to me. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Remember what you said? Whatever happens next, I’m all in. We can stop right now; I’ll make us some cocoa or tea, and we can cuddle or talk, whatever you need. And I’ll still want you just as much.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say because Eddie squeezed his hand, thumb brushing over Steve’s knuckles as he finally spoke. “I don’t want to stop. I want this… I want you… so much. That’s the problem.” At Steve’s confused hum, Eddie continued. “I’m scared, Stevie. It’s stupid, I know, but… God, I’m so fucking scared.”

“Scared? Of what? Of me?” Steve asked, his heart tightening in his chest.

Eddie finally looked up, and Steve’s heart broke at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “Of how much I want you. How much I need you. It’s terrifying. I feel out of control, like I’ll break apart if you stop touching me.”

Steve’s heart clenched at Eddie’s admission, feeling the weight of every word settle between them. Eddie’s eyes, so wide and vulnerable, flicked up to meet his, and Steve saw the fear there — not of him, but of the intensity of what he was feeling. It was like a tidal wave, something too big to contain or control. He tightened his grip on Eddie’s hand, drawing him closer, feeling the heat and tremor of his body.

"Hey," he murmured softly, "it's okay. You're safe here. I know it feels like too much right now," Steve continued, voice low and soothing, "but it doesn’t have to be. We don’t have to rush this. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for."

“I am ready,” Eddie insisted, the desperation in his voice making Steve's heart twist. "But it feels like — like if I let go, I’ll lose myself. Or worse, you. And I can't… I can't lose you again. Not when I just got you back."

Steve shifted closer, cupping Eddie's face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "You’re not going to lose me," he promised, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering. "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, his eyes searching Steve's, and Steve leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips. He kept it soft, reassuring. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Eddie’s, his hands still cradling Eddie’s face. “We’ll go as slow as you need. We have all the time in the world now. And if you need to stop, we’ll stop. But if you want me to keep going, I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

For a moment, Eddie just breathed, like he was soaking in Steve’s words, his promises. Then, he nodded, a small, tentative smile breaking through the anxiety in his eyes. "I don’t want to stop," he whispered, voice steadier now. "I just… needed to know you’re with me. That you feel it too."

“I do,” Steve replied, brushing a kiss to Eddie’s brow. “Believe me, Eddie, I never felt like this about anyone but you.”

Eddie swallowed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Okay,” he breathed. “Then… don’t stop. Just… hold me while you do. Please.”

Steve's smile was gentle. "Always," he whispered, pulling Eddie closer, as if holding him while making love could ever be anything less than a joy.

The next few minutes felt like a dream. Steve never stopped touching Eddie, and Eddie never stopped touching him, their hands and bodies in constant, tender contact. Eddie rolled the condom over Steve’s length, slicking it with lube, while Steve kept caressing Eddie’s thighs, kneeling between his spread legs.

And then, finally, with Eddie on his back and Steve poised above him, he sank slowly into the familiar heat of Eddie’s body after years apart. Every movement was slow, deliberate, filled with care and affection. Their gazes were locked, fingers intertwined beside Eddie’s head, and it felt as if time had ceased to exist. Steve leaned down to capture Eddie’s lips in a tender kiss, hips flush against Eddie's, and they kissed again and again, the earlier urgency softened into something gentler, more profound.

When Steve began to move, his hips rolled languidly, their mouths never more than a breath apart. Eddie’s grip on his hands was firm, as if Steve were the only thing anchoring him to the present, holding him together with touch alone. Maybe he was. Steve certainly felt the same way about Eddie.

Their bodies fell into a rhythm that only they knew. They were pressed together from head to toe, chests flush, Eddie’s hard cock trapped beneath Steve’s stomach, Eddie’s legs wrapped tightly around Steve’s waist. It felt like they were caught in the eternal dance of the moon and the sea, Steve’s hips mimicking the ebb and flow of the tides, pushing into Eddie again and again. Beneath him, Eddie met every thrust with his own, welcoming Steve home with a smile Steve could feel on his lips.

“I love you,” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips, aware of how insane it might sound to anyone else, but knowing the truth of it deep in his heart. The last ten years had melted away the moment their eyes met again. After learning what had caused Eddie to walk away all those years ago, and knowing Eddie had missed him just as much as he’d missed Eddie, those old feelings that had never quite disappeared resurfaced, filling his heart until they overflowed from his lips, just like they always had.

Eddie’s eyes went wide, his grip tightening almost painfully. “Steve—”

“You don’t have to say it back, but I needed you to know. I never stopped loving you, Eddie. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Thank God, because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you, too.”

Steve captured Eddie’s mouth in another passionate kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into it. He knew that this moment would forever be one of the best of his life.

Confessing their love seemed to ignite the earlier fire between them, bringing a fresh urgency to their lovemaking. Suddenly, all Steve wanted was to feel Eddie come because of him, to see him unravel from the pleasure he gave him. His hips picked up speed as he sought the perfect angle to hit Eddie’s prostate with every thrust, each raspy ah, ah, ah from Eddie like a siren’s call he followed, focused entirely on Eddie's pleasure.

Not to be outdone, Eddie began whispering in his ear, telling him how well he was fucking him, how perfect Steve’s cock felt, how Steve was made for him, making him feel like no one else ever had. Eddie’s voice, breathless and raw, promised he couldn’t wait for Steve to fuck him bare again, his cum dripping from his used hole, wanting Steve to push it back in, to mark him as his, and his alone.

Even with the way both of them focused on chasing heights of pleasure, Steve’s orgasm still snuck up on him, the only warning the tight coil in his belly that suddenly twisted painfully. “Fuck, baby, you’re making me come.”

“I’m close, so close, I just—I need—” Eddie’s voice was husky, desperate, and Steve knew exactly what he needed.

It was a tight fit to get his hand between them—neither of them willing to have any space separating them—but Steve managed, wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s cock. It was slick with precum and sweat, easing his strokes.

The keening moans falling from Eddie’s lips told Steve just how close he was, so he allowed himself to chase his own orgasm, thrusting into Eddie with short, forceful movements while stroking him just the way he knew Eddie liked it.

And when he felt Eddie clench around him, cum spilling between them and down his fingers, Steve finally let go. He came with a low, guttural fuck, his hips stuttering, his body tightening as he pressed in as deep as he could, filling the condom.

His arms gave out beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut, and he half-sank, half-fell onto Eddie, who let out a soft oof at the weight on top of him.

“Too heavy?” Steve asked, hoping for Eddie to say no so he could stay just like this.

“No,” Eddie replied with a soft smile, probably reading his mind, “stay. Please.”

“For as long as you want me to.”

He was rewarded with a kiss that felt like both a confession and a promise. “How does forever sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve whispered. “Forever sounds perfect.”

[sugar-grigri]

Hello! With the discussion of Yoshida with your recent analysis, what's your perspective on Yoshida offering Denji the choice before: of being chainsaw man or having his family and how much of that was Yoshida enforcing his own ideas of what's good for denji vs his efforts to help denji in the limited scope of his position? I feel like this could have been talked about before on the blog but with added context from csm 156 interested in how this develops too

Denji is Yoshida's reflection that he refuses to see

The answer might be easy if I aligned myself with my own position, the one I established in my analysis 156, which attempts to theorize that Yoshida is on Denji's side

But you know I know I haven't convinced everyone with my blindness around Yoshida's hidden goodness. So I'm going to answer your question, but from the opposite position: let's explain Yoshida's reactions, whether as a non-ally of Denji or as an enemy. I know this may confuse you because you'd like me to analyze chapter 133 in relation to what I analyzed about chapter 156. But even if I assumed the opposite, I would have come to the same conclusion.

I love Yoshida, and even though I seem to have left him out of my analyses, I've always reflected on every one of his interventions. And something strikes me, Yoshida often seems to be talking to himself, even deluding himself almost as if to hold on.

In chapters 120/121, Yoshida invites Asa. Now fans (like me!!!) are fantasizing about rivals, a fake love triangle and a date. But in reality, it all falls depressingly flat.

But this chapter remains interesting for two reasons: two people share their experience of solitude as the only way to avoid disappointment and be happy. However, Asa projects herself into a possible love with Yoshida.

It's like reciting something to convince yourself but secretly wishing for the opposite…

But what's interesting is that we take the position of thinking that everything Yoshida said was linear.

Let's review. Yoshida knows that Asa was leering, that she looked depressed, and since he's watching Denji, he must have known about the date, hence the warning that comes later. So why get involved? As Asa's Nayuta-altered memory made him the executioner, why make her pain worse?

Because Yoshida must have had a childish reaction. It's as if, for once, he hadn't quite accepted his role as a spectator of events. I think Yoshida must have seen himself in Asa in some way. In chapter 121, Asa is all silence and Yoshida is for once almost in monologue. It was as if everything he said would convince him a little more out loud. Whether it was his theory of happiness up to........ "stay away from Denji". That point. Part of the points that concern him as much as they concern Asa.

I think and I'm convinced that even by not interpreting Yoshida as an ally, he became more sensitive and involved with Denji's plight and didn't always know how to place an emotional wall between them. Because Denji catches him off guard, makes Yoshida's smiling mask fall off. And this is something I've never verbalized before, but it's a pillar in my interpretation:

Being with Denji pushes you to be yourself.

Because Denji refuses the social game, doesn't tend to judge as teenagers of this age usually would, and has extremely sincere reactions that are so unpredictable that they don't allow for calculated responses, responses that form the shell of other characters like Asa and Yoshida.

What Asa liked about Denji, above all, was that he was able to give her confidence and make her proud when everyone else was putting her down. You don't like fish, so what? Eat starfish. Because yes, even if it was boring, I saw you, I listened to you and you made an impact on me. Because you're not insignificant.

Denji has that effect on Yoshida. Very symbolically, during their new interaction in part 2, the protagonist doesn't remember Yoshida. Of course, it's quite funny, because it can be interpreted in all sorts of ways, like the fact that Denji is so uninterested in guys that he forgets them so easily. But it's symbolic for Yoshida's character. He's so fake and so in control that Denji doesn't perceive anything in him.

And it's when he becomes more and more desperate as a result of these reactions, and when his mask gradually breaks, that Denji finally remembers his name. Because Yoshida acts less like a public hunter and more like himself, like Yoshida.

I think in chapter 133, it's really a way of trying to wake Denji up and help him. But then again, it helps to weaken Yoshida's mask. When Yoshida repeats that Denji has only two choices, that of his family or Chainsaw Man, Denji repeats that he has two. From Yoshida's point of view, this is fundamental.

The system offers only one choice, only one possible path. But Denji opposes both. In a chapter about protest, we also talk about his position towards the system. Oppose it, protest as if in the background, claim the symbol of Chainsaw Man or oppose it, see it as a societal evil, a danger of undermining the system. For I repeat, Yoshida has decided to believe in the system when Denji distrusts it.

So Yoshida gets angry, belittling Denji as if he can't see the absurdity of this dilemma imposed on a boy who has been given a choice. Who was only told there were only two choices when there were three. Rehearsing allows Yoshida to convince himself, but we see that this controlled mask has completely disappeared, giving way to anger and a kind of panic. Because Yoshida's ideals are unravelling.

Denji is a reflection.

Reflecting the cruelty of the mafia that Katana doesn't want to admit, the dream of going to school that Reze is trying to forget, allowing the trust that Asa thought impossible and the reflection of Yoshida: a teenager, who will trace a third path to the two that will be reserved for him.

If Chainsaw Man allows you to project what you want, have or be in him, hence the pandemic of CSM wannabe. Denji, hidden behind it, is doing something far more unbearable: showing us who we are.

Aki's vengeance gives way to a desire to be surrounded by loved ones, loved ones he may not be able to protect. Thinking only of oneself shows Power, through her sacrifice for Denji, that she is capable of love even if it goes against her survival.

So chapter 156 takes on a softer version. I repeat: why did you wake Denji up just to tell him he'd lost?

That Yoshida had warned him? Once again, through a strategy of self-conviction and self-protection, what Yoshida is doing is reminding us that complete alienation from the system is better than individual affirmation (which is what Denji is punished for, having repeated that he is Chainsaw Man). This identical public hunter's costume is the symbol of this submission. Yoshida is no longer even a fake high-school student. He's just a public hunter.

But I find this chapter takes on an air of funeral and goodbye. Yoshida's costume, taking on that of someone in mourning in a symbolic way.

Because saying goodbye to Denji.

It means saying goodbye to yourself.

So I ask you, Anon, and you, the reader, does Yoshida really want to continue refusing to see his reflection ?

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 44)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (39) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson Mini (3)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**This is now my largest chapter at 7.5k. Enjoy!**))

YFN had instantly fallen asleep in her seat on the plane and woke to the jolt of the landing gear absorbing the impact on touchdown. She shook her fatigue away and took her phone off flight mode. 11:15am UK time. She gave a sigh of relief that the flight had been quicker than usual. She knew she’d been cutting it close with the flight time and instead of Ruby picking her up as planned, she’d told her to go to the stadium instead so she could get an Uber. It worked out well, because it meant she had time to speak to Jordan without feeling rude talking in front of Ruby.

She collected her bags and timed the Uber well, hopping in immediately as she exited the building. The stadium was thirty minutes from the airport so she’d be arriving just at kick off. She wasn't too concerned, though. Bridget and Emily were also in Manchester for a 1300 game between Man City and Brighton and were getting a bit more experience up onsite with Ruby at her game. She was lucky to have such good workmates.

She slid into the cab with a polite hello and found the only contact with a fish in it.

“Hey chicken! How was Barcelona?”

“Oh my god, Dory, it was amazing. Absolutely amazing. But I’m dead on my feet.”

Jordan laughed. “I’m guessing Lucy didn’t let you sleep much?”

“Don’t be cheeky. But you are correct.”

“How many hours are you running on?”

She counted. “I had two hours sleep on the plane so…about five hours?”

“What?!”

“I think…I remember we had a ‘midnight snack’ but that was about 4am so…”

“You’re unbelievable. Priorities, right?”

YFN chuckled. “I have no regrets beyond the struggle to walk-”

“Oh god! I don’t want to hear it.”

They both laughed together.

“How are you? Tell me everything.”

Jordan hummed and then proceeded to tell YFN about her dreams and the flowers and note that morning.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

“I don't know. Good news before bad?”

“You think the flowers and note are bad news?”

“I don’t know. My head’s all over the place from the dreams. They were good and bad, but it’s just wrecked me emotionally.”

“I understand that…it’s not great for game day. Are you on your way there now?”

“Yeah, I’m on the bus. We have another hour and a half to go.”

“Well, you can’t resolve these emotions before the game because that would be a miracle. So how about you put a movie on and distract yourself? Don’t sleep, you won’t be able to.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that to be fair…”

“Perfect. Have you messaged her?”

“No. I can’t do that today. Trying not to mess with my head before the game.”

“That’s all good, I was going to suggest maybe not responding until after the game.”

“You’re doing two games today, aren’t you?”

YFN’s mouth almost dropped open. “You have no idea how proud I am that you remembered that? I told you a while ago...”

“Oh, sorry, I should probably keep up my forgetfulness, right? Who are you again?”

YFN laughed. “I love forgetful Dory. She’s my favourite. Along with cuddly Dory. Football Dory though…jeez she’s terrifying.”

“I definitely will be today.”

“Get those emotions out, girl! Just don’t hurt anyone or get red carded please.”

“No promises.”

“As for your question, yep. I have the 1200 Man United versus West Ham game at Leigh and then the 1845 Arsenal versus Leicester game at King Power.”

“Oh that's right! Kyra…”

YFN had obviously told Jordan about Kyra. They both thought it was cute.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Our bus will drop us back at Villa Park about 7pm tonight…I can drive and meet you there?”

YFN could tell that Jordan needed comfort, and most of her friends were in London. She did the timing math in her head.

“You’d arrive about 8pm tonight with the traffic…how about you get a lift with my guy, Matt? He’s relocating to my game and then driving me back to Birmingham after it’s done.”

“Oh, yeah! That works out brilliant, that does. God, you’re so good at this logistics stuff. I just kick a ball around.”

YFN had a giggle at the visual image and messaged Matt. “And you look great doing it. Plus, you do more than that and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

YFN bit her lip as she thought a little. Jordan needed some love, and she knew just what to do. “What do you think about us asking Katie and Caitlin to stay the night? We’ll all finish up around 9pm in Leicester so they’ll have overnight accommodation. If I message them then they’ll have time for the team to cancel their room. They can come home with us.”

“Ohhh I didn’t think of that! See, this is why you’re the best.”

YFN grinned at the sound of genuine happiness in Jordan’s voice. She knew she missed them a lot.

She looked up and could see the stadium approaching in the distance. “I’m excited! Okay, I’m almost at the stadium. I’ll message the group.”

“Okay, love you!”

“Love you more. I’m so excited to see you tonight! Have a good game today, please. Smash it.”

They hung up happy and she opened a message from Matt that replied with an excited yes. Being a Villa supporter meant his dream just came true. YFN wondered how the car ride with them would be to Leicester and couldn’t help but be amused.

YFN then put a message in their little four-way group. Caitlin was usually the first to respond whether it be message or Instagram, and today was no exception. She’d answered an unequivocal yes for the both of them before she’d even stepped foot into the stadium.

The national anthems were playing just as she arrived and met up with her workmates. Bridget was running the boundary line, excitedly videoing the singing while Emily and Ruby were taking photos.

“Hey, Em.”

“YFN! Hi!” She gushed, wearing her purple and yellow Lumos hoodie. YFN was wearing Lucy’s hoodie so she opted for a beanie instead. “How was your flight?”

“I slept the entire trip,” she admitted with a chuckle.

Emily snapped a few shots of the starting line-ups.

“How are you and Bridget?”

“Oh, great! Yeah, we’re excited to be staying in Manchester tonight. Because we all have tomorrow off, we have plans to sight see and visit some family.”

They chatted for a little longer when YFN recognised the photographer from the last game she’d been to. The one who followed her home. She pretended to not notice him as she kept speaking to Emily and then made her way around the field to get a few good videos and say hi to Ruby and Bridget also. Bridget was running a mile a minute as she usually did, and Ruby mentioned that she had a date with Matt the next day. Ruby also ran a mile a minute, just with her mouth rather than her legs like Bridget. The whistle blew.

“Oh are those two already leaving already?” She asked rhetorically as Bridget and Emily waved on the way out. “Aw I didn’t say bye! Anyways, Matt said he’d take me on a date but I don’t know where-” she snapped a few photos and then cringed at the tackle she’d just captured, “-and I know it’s going to be amazing because we’ve been talking for a while now and…well not a while but since we all met and we were first partnered up-” she jogged further up the field to take another and came back when she was satisfied, “-and we’ve both been talking about supervising this next group of people coming in and we’re so excited for them to join us-” she took photos while YFN pulled her phone out to get a good Instagram video of Man United’s goal as they were both standing just a few metres from the West Ham goal. Goal number one, just three minutes in. YFN uploaded the video straight to their social media with an update on the score, “-and I just think it’s going to be amazing to have so many people with us. Is that guy staring at us?”

YFN turned to the photographer who’d been following her around the boundary, more focussed on her than the game.

“Yeah…just ignore him. He won’t hurt us.” She said, repeating what Catherine had said to her. Phone still on video mode in her hand, she pressed record but before she could lift her arm up to video him, they were interrupted.

“Now, now, physical violence isn’t my thing.” The voice teased from behind them.

YFN didn’t even have to turn, but she did out of polite habit as Mark stepped next to her, his eyes focussed on the game. She kept her phone on record and down near her body, but angling the mic towards him.

“Mark.”

“YFN. I hear you had a lovely trip up to Edinburgh to meet your…controversial leader.”

Ruby frowned, not understanding.

“He’s just teasing,” she assured. “Could you give us a minute?”

Ruby nodded and headed back up the field.

“So none of them know then?”

“What could you possibly be referring to, Mark?”

“Joanne.” He almost hissed. “That heartless woman.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well let me be clear, then. I know your boss. She took something from me, so I’m going to tear her whole fucking business down.”

“Which business would that be?”

“The only one not protected by a board. Lumos. Her baby that she’s trying so desperately to hide. And you know exactly how I’m going to start?”

“By getting a photographer to follow me?”

He gave a grin that sent shivers down her spine. “Something along those lines.”

He handed her a large yellow envelope. Against her better judgement, she took it and looked inside. She found several printed photos of herself and Lucy kissing at the airport. The photos weren’t the best quality, they looked like they’d been taken on a phone, but still…it was disturbing.

She turned her attention back to the game as if she were unbothered. “Congratulations. You gave me photos of my girlfriend and I. You do realise that we are public? We have nothing to hide.”

“You don’t think that someone in your position dating one of the most famous footballers of all time is a conflict of interest? Let me give you some advice…people will care. Whoever Joanne has investing in her company will. And this is just the start. I’ll get more and more dirt on not just you, but your workmates also. I’ll drag you all into the fucking ground.”

She sharply breathed in. “You want to ruin a good thing for a little rivalry?”

“A good thing?” He scoffed. “Nobody wants to watch women play. Look around you. The stands are only filled with friends and family. As for everyone who works at Lumos…” He shrugged. “Collateral.”

YFN let herself look at him. He was determined and deadly serious.

“See that photographer? Get used to seeing him around. As for Joe…tell her I’m going to tear down her company before it even begins.”

It was a dominant display by Manchester United who ended up winning 5-0 with five different goal scorers. YFN felt for West Ham who she’d grown a soft spot for since her visit, and especially felt empathetic for their Captain, Mackenzie Arnold, a fellow Australian, as she was the goalkeeper. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been mentally after a game like that. You’d feel like it was all your fault while having to be the one to pull the team together.

A few of the players wandered over to her after the match, one being Mackenzie. She gave her a hug and surprisingly agreed to an interview. She interviewed her alongside Mary Earps, letting the two talk business. Mary didn’t exactly have a quiet game, she’d had shots that she’d saved and they both bantered about that, with YFN steering the questions when and where she wanted. The fact that they both pointed out the brilliance in several different moments of each teams and gushed over not just their team but the opposite was the exact reason she’d fallen in love with women’s football. After those two, she interviewed Kirsty Smith and Riko Ueki with Ella Toone and Lucia Garcia. The dynamics of who she put together were interesting and got the results she wanted. She felt like she was Graham Norton putting interesting guests on and leading them here and there with questions, making sure they each felt acknowledged and appreciated for their time and their skill on the pitch.

They finished up around 2:30pm and stopped for a late lunch and some quick editing and posts before they started their two-and-a-half-hour drive to Leicester for their next game. It was only early evening, and YFN could already feel herself getting tired.

As they got into the car, Ruby noted that and told her to get some sleep. She had no idea that Ruby could be quiet for long enough and was pleasantly surprised.

Just before she went to sleep, she sent the video recording of Mark’s voice to Catherine who she knew was busy with few royal duties, and then she fell asleep just after she put her phone on charge.

YFN woke to the loud sound of her phone ringing and she jumped, her face feeling half numb from the window. The car was stopped and she looked outside to Ruby who’d noticed her wake and gave her a thumbs up from the fuel bowser. She gave one back and answered the phone without checking the caller ID.

“YFN! Are you okay?!”

She recognised the voice immediately. “Cath- I mean. Joe? Wow, you really did a great job of sounding not yourself before we met.”

Catherine gave a light chuckle. “One of my secret talents. I listened to your video. Did he threaten you?”

“Not physically, just what you heard on the video.”

“He’s absolutely insistent and much more of a pain than I’d expected.” She sounded annoyed and that was amusing to YFN as she was always painted as the perfect Princess. “I’m so sorry. I spoke to Joe and even she is surprised. He will not hurt you. If you feel unsafe at all, I will hire security.”

“That’s okay, I think we’re okay for now. He seems to be all bark at the moment..”

“He is, I assure you. Also, there is no conflict of interest here. I’m aware of your relationship. We are not even covering her games yet and when we do, it is absolutely not a conflict of interest. The man doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I know you, I chose you for a reason and your judgement, and your actions won’t be compromised by your relationship. Not only that, but there’s nothing in which to base these allegations on just yet. I understand the implications that may occur with you interviewing her and potentially being seen as biased, but I’ve seen your work, I’ve seen you interview friends and colleagues without that bias. I chose carefully.” She sighed. “My plan was for us to build your reputation in the field so high it would surpass any of these allegations before they even occurred.”

“I appreciate the support, and I promise that anything to do with Lucy or her team against another team will not be an issue. I want everyone and every team to be represented, regardless of if they’re against her or not.”

“Perfect. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I think. In the meantime, you don’t need to hide your relationship. I’d never ask or expect that of you.”

“Thank you…also I’m assuming part of your security check on us is that you look for anything controversial which may be used against us like this?”

She hesitated. “Yes. I don’t like it, but we need to protect ourselves and the business from any potential threats…”

“I understand, and I agree.” Ruby hopped back into the car then with a grin. “You have my support…Joe.”

Catherine took the hint. “He won’t find anything controversial on the other employees because there is nothing. We just need to stay a tight knit group and continue our jobs.”

“Copy that, will do. Would you like me to send out a group memo about him?”

Ruby started to drive again.

“Yes, absolutely. If you don’t mind, I’ll write it and you send it?”

“Perfect, that saves me the work.”

“Lastly, the office won’t be ready tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Her interest peaked at that. She could be with Lucy on her day off. Jonatan had been giving her more days off with her knee. She only had to train four days this week, Tuesday to Friday.

“It’s all related. Mark somehow managed to talk to the local council…anyways I’m sorting it. It’ll be ready by Wednesday, I promise you.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly fine. I’ll meet up with the real estate agent and then the original ten of us will settle in and prep for the new group to arrive.”

“I thought it would be best to start the new group on Thursday instead because of the timing with the office date moving, but I wanted to check with you first to make sure you weren’t losing too much preparation time with them for the next round?”

YFN thought about it a little. Their first game was Saturday, and it was the only one. Catherine had gotten permission for ten employees at that game which allowed her to send two original crew with a full new crew to train. “I think Thursday will work. It’ll give us two full days to cover everything which is enough, and for eight of them, they’ll get experience on Saturday at Stamford Bridge. If I feel we need more, I’ll organise Saturday with the others not at the game to prep more.”

“Agreed! We think very much alike, you know.” It was a compliment that made her blush.

Catherine asked if she had any more questions before the call ended. She wasn’t surprised it wasn’t a long conversation, as she knew she’d been busy all day with regular duties and then Mark’s drama in the background. She couldn’t help but think about the possibility of booking a flight to Barcelona to spend the next two days with Lucy, as she knew she had the next day off. She could explore Barcelona with Narla and do a bit of work on the Tuesday while Lucy was training… She bit her lip and shook her head. Jordan needed her. Jordan was her priority. Thinking of, she looked up Jordan’s game which was almost finished. It had been fairly even all game and Jordan had been subbed on in the 65th minute, having a goal attempt in the 66th minute. YFN smiled as she watched Jordan running around, looking frustrated which was so opposite to her everyday self. Aston Villa were up 1-0 and she watched while Ruby listened to the end of the game. Multiple fouls were made by both teams. Aston Villa scored a second goal. A foul by Jordan at the 90 minute mark. And then it was over. Jordan had only played 30 minutes, but she’d made an impact. YFN sent Jordan a message saying how proud she was of her.

They arrived in Leicester around 5:45pm and stopped at a local café for another snack and a drink before the game. Being too early at the stadium meant boredom. They made sure to arrive around 6:15pm and set their equipment up, capturing the players during warm up. The Leicester players exited first to warm up and a few came over to chat. Luck have it, Courtney was one of them. Australians tended to flock together outside of Australia, she realised. YFN asked if she’d do an interview after the game and she agreed for the price of a hoodie. She liked Courtney and could see why Kyra did too. They were both cheeky.

“Hey stranger.”

YFN turned to see Leah’s smile as she stepped next to her. She was alone and not in kit, not quite ready to play after her ACL.

“Leah!” She smiled, pulling her into a hug. She liked Leah, regardless of her issues with Jordan, and she’d previously spoken to Jordan about their little growing friendship. She was okay with it, of course, otherwise YFN wouldn’t have been so forward. “How are you?”

“Oh mate, desperate to get onto that field, I’m telling ya.” She looked longingly at the pitch and then back to YFN. “I watched your interviews. They’re great! I don’t know why anyone hasn’t interviewed like that before.”

“The ones from last week?”

“Yeah and this morning. I loved it, honestly. I’ll be happy to do interviews anytime with you, just let me know.”

“That’s just given me an idea…” She hummed as she thought.

“Taking me up on the offer already?” She laughed.

“Actually I’ve been trying to work out different segments and ideas that would make us stand out from other companies….you’re not playing today. There are always players who are not playing but watching their teams. So it might be a good idea to get players willing to on the sidelines with us to interview and to film some of the snippets we upload with their own perspective and jokes and insight. Sort of like when you’re excitedly screaming motivation at the girls from the bench, but this time they’d be in snippets for our social media. It’ll promote the team and show just how supportive all of the players are with each other. Plus, I think it'd be hilarious.”

“Sort of like when they mic up the cricket players?”

“EXACTLY.”

“Put me in, coach. I love the sound of that. Plus, if it mucks up, you can just blame me.”

“You are 100% my scapegoat if it goes bad.” She laughed. “You’d be willing to today?”

She shrugged. “I have nothing else going on and I’m used to the camera so why not.”

“Perfect! Yeah, oh that’s so exciting-” She stopped and bit her lip as she thought of Jordan.

“What is it?”

“Um…maybe not today? Maybe next game?”

The frustrating thing was that she didn’t know yet if she’d even be at Arsenal’s next game. It depended on the roster.

“YFN, just tell me.”

“So…hm…here’s the thing…”

“Please don’t tell me this is about Jordan?” She asked, a little upset. “I was hoping that wouldn’t affect our relationship…”

“It won’t! Dory’s fine with us being friends. It’s just…”

“Spit it out, mate.”

“She’s going to be here in under an hour.”

She swore Leah paled. She definitely froze. “Oh.”

“Yeah…so she’ll already be with me on the sidelines for company.”

“She just finished a game…” she looked at her watch. “…so if she’s coming here I guess it’s to talk about us?”

“Leah…”

“She told you about this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She groaned and ran her hand through her hair. “Look, I don’t know your opinion on everything and I don’t want to drag you into it all, but I promise you I just want the best for Jordan.”

“And the best for Jordan is you?”

Leah held her eye contact. “Yes. Just…I know I don’t have the right to ask but I will. Can you please maybe tell Jordan it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to go with me this Friday night to the awards? I want to win her back, to be there for her but I can’t without opportunity to actually be around her.”

“I won’t convince her to do something she doesn’t want to…”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Just…advocate for me? You don’t have to push it. Just…please?”

“I’ll have a talk to her,” she murmured.

“CHICKEN!”

The Arsenal players were headed out for their warm up and most were headed her way led by the Irishwoman who was being overtaken by a smiley, wavy Kyra.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Also, I can still do that thing with you, I can be over the other side away from Jordan if she doesn’t want me near.”

“Thanks Leah, I’ll ask her about it when she gets here,” she replied with a smile.

“Ask who about what?!” Kyra asked as she landed on YFN’s back. YFN’s hands immediately caught her legs.

“Oof. You do realise I’m small, right?”

“Yeah, but I knew you’d catch me. When’s Nobbs here?”

A few of the Arsenal girls looked awkward because Leah was there. “It’s okay…” she assured them. “She’ll be here during the first half.”

“Okaaaaay.”

“Oh, also Kyra invited herself tonight.” Caitlin said as she wrestled Kyra off of YFN so she and Katie could give her a hug.

“Tonight? Where was our invite?” Beth asked.

YFN grinned sheepishly. “Our apartment isn’t big enough for the entire Arsenal squad…”

“I’m just joking, this one wants an early sleep anyways,” she said as she nudged Viv who looked unimpressed as usual.

“Aw what a granny!” Kyra teased.

YFN couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Viv’s face. Kyra giggled at her joke, ducking away from Caitlin’s motherly swat to the back of the head when a blue shirt appeared amongst the red and Kyra stilled.

“Hey…”

“Courtney!” YFN replied, making sure she didn’t feel left out. “Hey!”

Courtney looked around, her eyes finding Kyra and then tearing them away pretending she hadn’t looked at her. “Just letting you know Sam and Sophie are both good for the interview after the game. Do you know who it’ll be with?”

“Awesome! Yeah, I was hoping Beth and Frida would be up for it…”

“Me? Yes please! Not sure if I’ll be subbed on though,” Beth said eagerly.

Viv rolled her eyes. “She’ll be subbed on.”

“FRIDA!” Katie yelled.

“FRIDA!!” Beth yelled shortly after. Viv covered her ears and YFN chuckled at that.

The blonde spun around and jogged over. “Yes?”

Frida Maanum was a Norwegian midfielder who’d been with Arsenal since 2021. She was rarely chosen to be interviewed and softly spoken, so YFN thought it’d be great to involve her and help her confidence out with Beth who she could always rely on to talk if she didn’t.

“Want to do an interview with me after the game? YFN wants to know.”

Frida looked over at YFN with a polite hello wave. “It’s going to be with Sam Tierney and Sophie Howard from Leicester. You can absolutely say no if you want.”

“You want me?” She sounded surprised.

“Of course she wants ya, you’re amazin’.” Katie said with a playful grab of her shoulder.

“O…okay. Yeah.” She smiled at YFN which made the Australian feel good for asking.

“Aw, I’ll look after you mate! No need to be nervous!” Beth said loudly, extending an arm around her shoulder.

“So…Beth and Frida,” YFN said to Courtney with a smile. “And then you and Kyra. Is that okay Kyra?”

“Yeah that’s cool.” Kyra said, suddenly quiet.

Courtney’s eyes widened hearing that she’d be interviewed with Kyra. YFN knew it was sneaky of her but it was an opportunity for Courtney to reject the idea before she surprised her with her ex. Not that they were ever public knowledge.

“Okay. I’ll see you after the game.” She said, directed straight at YFN but she knew it was more for Kyra from the tone of it.

Caitlin and YFN shared a sheepish look.

“Come on girls, Jonas is about to kick our asses. Let’s get warmin’ up!” Katie ordered.

“If you see me shouting from the sidelines, it’s because I’m mic’d up!” Leah warned them and received some amused looks in return.

“You’d better not be focusin’ on my ass.” Katie teased.

Caitlin messed up Kyra’s hair. “You’d better be focusing on this one’s debut!”

They all jogged off and Leah turned to YFN.

“Okay boss, where do you want me?”

Jordan and Matt arrived just after 7pm, both with wide grins. Matt because he’d just spent a car ride with Jordan and Jordan because of YFN.

“Dory! Come here!” She took her friend in a hug big enough to lift the footballer off the ground and a few Arsenal fans spotted Jordan and shouted their love for her as she did so.

“I missed you.” She mumbled into Lucy’s hoodie.

“It’s been a day. Needy, hm?”

“I’m always needy.” Jordan grumbled as she put her down.

“I missed you too.” YFN chuckled before turning to Matt. “You look excited, mate.”

He was still grinning ear to ear and nodded.

“I think I tired him out with all the talking, to be fair.”

“I’m glad you two got on for the drive then. Matt, are you okay taking a few of us back to Birmingham tonight? If not, I can ask Ruby…”

“Yes!” He almost shouted and then cleared his throat. “Um, yes, of course. Who..?

“Uh Dory, Katie, Caitlin, Kyra and myself. Oh actually that won’t work… Ruby will have to take some of us anyways… maybe those three and I’ll ask Ruby if she can take Kyra and I.”

“Done.”

“How was the game?”

“Yeah, great. Noel and I got some great footage. A few of the girls were asking about interviews but I said we’d start next week.”

“Next week hopefully… and congrats on Aston Villa’s first win for the season?!”

“Yeah!” Jordan grinned. “I wasn’t on for long but I think I did alright.”

Loud noises from the crowd turned their attention to Leicester running towards goal. The ball was pushed out by Lotte for a corner.

“I’ll go record that.” Matt said as he ran towards the goal up the side of the pitch. Jordan spotted Leah behind the goal then.

“Leah…?”

“You had to have expected her to be here,” YFN teased.

“Well yeah but…is she recording with a phone?”

“I have her mic’d up for some footage. Trying something new out and she’s helping.”

Jordan frowned but her eyes remained on her, mixed emotions in her eyes.

The crowd went wild as Leicester scored from their corner. Jordan swore. The game reset.

“She really wants you to go with her on Friday..”

Jordan’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “She said that? What else did she say?”

“Nothing you don’t already know… that she wants the best for you, she wants to win you back, and she wants an opportunity to do so.”

Jordan groaned. “I can’t. We rarely went to events together before. Now she wants to show me off to the world like I’m hers when I’m not?”

“I think she just wants a night with you, Jords…”

“Nope. No way. Unless she has another plus one and you come to chaperone us.”

YFN tilted her head. It wasn’t football but… “I could get an invite?”

Jordan spun back around. “You could?”

“My boss can 100% get me a ticket. Now, did you mean it?”

“I mean…” she looked over at Leah. “If you’re going, I will.”

“And is this really what you want?”

Jordan got a little frustrated and pouted, trying to think. She was a bundle of confused emotions and the dreams wouldn’t have helped. YFN put her arm around her and pulled her close.

“What do you think?”

“I think whatever this is, you need to resolve it. The best way to do that is communication. I think you should go. Sooner or later it’s going to be clear to you if you do or don’t want to have her back in your life.”

Leah looked over at the pair, her and Jordan looking at each other. She nodded. “I’ll go.”

“You’re sure?”

“I think I wanted to, I just didn’t want to admit it. Plus, you’ll be there now so it’ll be less awkward.” She grinned up at her.

YFN rolled her eyes and messaged ‘Joe’. Just as she finished the message, Leicester was surging forward, forward, forward, and tucked away their second goal. Two goals in two minutes. A terrible start for Arsenal.

Jordan settled next to YFN, following her and her camera around, watching the game intently. She always wanted the best for Arsenal. They had more of a catch up in between photos that she’d changed to as Matt was now doing the videography. YFN didn’t miss Leah off and on staring across at them just as longingly as she stared at the pitch she missed. Jordan and YFN gradually moved closer to Leah through that first half, though Leah ducked away to the change rooms for half time with her girls.

While it was half time, Ruby, Matt and YFN on worked on their footage while they talked.

“New office tomorrow?!” Matt asked excitedly.

“Oh…no. That’s been delayed until Wednesday. Waiting on approvals. New group are now starting Thursday.”

“You’re not going to Barcelona?” Jordan asked. “Doesn’t Lucy have tomorrow off?”

“You spoke with her?”

“Yeah she messaged me. I assumed you suggested it,” she laughed, “she’s terrible at messaging.”

“Not with me.” YFN winked. “Also that was all her, I promise.”

Jordan rolled her eyes and nudged her almost off her chair. “She misses you.”

“I was there this morning…”

“You miss her too.”

“Dory…” She groaned.

“No.” She said, putting her hand on the camera YFN was playing with which made her look up at her. Ruby and Matt shifted a little nervously as they could do nothing but listen. Jordan looked serious. “Don’t you dare stay here tonight just for me. You barely get any time with her as it is. She’s my friend too, and I like to see her happy. And you happy. And you’re both never as happy as when you’re together.” YFN opened her mouth to argue but Jordan continued. “Let me live vicariously through you. You’ve already done enough, I have Katie and Caitlin and Kyra tonight! They need a bed.”

“You’re kicking me out of our apartment?” YFN laughed.

“Only if you can find a flight.”

She put her camera down and took Jordan into a warm, long hug, mumbling into her. “I love you, Dory. You know that? If we’re both single in five years, I’m going to propose.”

Jordan laughed but they were both emotional. They just wanted the best for each other. “Okay but Blu will be ring-bearer.”

YFN laughed back into her and sat back, wiping tears away that she didn’t even know had formed.

“You’re putting Kyra on the couch?”

“I’ll let her share my bed if she shuts up.”

“She’s only small, she’ll be asleep before you all finish dinner. She tends to tire herself out fast, the little baby.”

“Little baby,” Jordan mimicked adoringly. “Now look for flights. I’ll message Lucy.”

“Or…how about we make it a surprise?”

“I love it! If she thinks you’re robbing her and knocks you out though, that’s not on me.”

She did wonder what Lucy’s reaction would be. She found a flight from Birmingham to Barcelona at 11pm.

“Won’t you need her to unlock the door?”

“I have keys…”

“You two are adorable.”

“I found an 11pm flight from Birmingham…”

“Do you think you’ll make that?!” Ruby asked. “I’m happy to take you…”

“That…sort of works out perfect because then the girls will all fit in Matt’s car. Um…the game finishes at 8:30pm. Interviews until 9pm. Arrive at the airport around 10pm. Cutting it close for international but it’s a late flight and nobody will be there… I think we can make it?” She shrugged and booked the flight anyways. If she didn’t make it, it wasn’t meant to be.

Jordan grinned. “Tell her to thank me when you get there.”

“Honestly, I’m probably going to be passed out from fatigue all day and not even get the chance.”

Her phone buzzed. It was the flight confirmation.

“Are you sure?” She asked Jordan. Sure, she’d already booked the flight, but it was cheap and she didn’t care. She wanted Jordan to be okay.

Jordan grabbed her around the shoulders and smiled. “I promise it’s okay. You’ve really cheered me up today and helped with my Friday night decision. Plus, I have the girls tonight. We both know you’ll just pass out anyways.”

“How dare you…” she laughed as the crowd began cheering loudly as the players re-entered the field. Ruby and Matt got to work. She stood to do the same when her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Done, they sent us through two invitations. Check your emails. Enjoy!

She grinned at the message and then at Jordan.

“What?” She handed her phone over and Jordan took it, an ecstatic look crossing her face. “Yes mate!”

She took her phone back and pocketed it, holding her camera up to take photos of the players as they ran out.

“One condition.”

“Anything.”

She jerked her head towards Leah who was wandering over to the pair. “You tell her.”

Jordan groaned. “Okay but at the end of the night. She can sweat until then.”

YFN chuckled at that.

Starting the second half 2-0 against them meant Arsenal had to push deep. And they did. Arsenal kicked six goals in the second half. Their first came at a hesitation from Courtney which YFN felt terrible for. She was next to Leah when that happened who filmed a mic’d up scream of joy from behind the Leicester goal as the shot went in. Slowly Jordan gravitated towards Leah more during the match, Leah managing to let her come at her own pace. The rest of the match was an absolute riot. Caitlin with an assist and a goal, Katie with an assist, and Kyra with multiple attempts at goal. She was shocked when she saw Courtney take Kyra down in the 83rd minute and wondered just how much of the history between them she didn’t know. The game ended 2-6 Arsenal. A complete second half dominance that had Leah screaming with joy on the sidelines. It turned out to be the perfect day to test the mic’d up segment, as she posted the live updates with video’s Leah had taken of her yelling at the girls running towards goal and screaming, turning the camera around on herself to show her celebrating. It was great content.

Regardless of the outcome, the Leicester players still came over for their interviews. First she had Sam, Sophie, Frida and Beth who actually did get some game time and almost a first goal since she’d come back from her ACL tear. Beth was the loudest, of course, and helped Frida to open up a bit. Frida had some back and forth with the Leicester girls talking about some of the plays including Sam’s goal. Overall, she was happy with the results of the interview, and how much the girls had come out of their shells.

Next was her interview with Courtney and Kyra who seemed equally nervous next to each other. They knew each other well though. YFN waited to sense the overall mood before she allowed herself to go in with some cheeky questions about Courtney’s tackle on Kyra, and Kyra’s debut. Her goal was to get them to start teasing each other, and it worked. At first, they didn’t want to address each other, and after a few comments here and there, it was more them talking and throwing cheeky comments to each other, and YFN could almost sit back and enjoy watching the show. She had to steer it a few times of course, both were young, but the tension between the two was obvious. For the sake of the viewers and their privacy, YFN made sure to make it known to the camera that they were teammates and brought up that they went to school together as justification which started a whole other line of questioning about their start in football.

Only when she was satisfied that she’d helped them break whatever awkwardness they’d previously had, did she end the interview, but not before she told Kyra how proud she was of her on camera for her debut. Courtney gave her a proud shove for that too.

Being Australians, and women, they all hugged their goodbyes, Kyra whispering a thanks into her ear. As they were packing up, she could see them still chatting as Courtney was being called away. She gave Kyra her phone and she typed into it what YFN assumed was her number. Courtney gave an awkward wave, obviously not knowing whether a hug was appropriate, and ran into the change rooms. Kyra turned to YFN with a grin and a little fist pump. It was adorable.

She looked past Kyra to where Leah and Jordan were standing, Jordan telling her she’d go on Friday. Leah’s expression flashed excitement before she contained it, and then it went a little shy as she pretended to be calm about it. They didn’t speak for long, just enough for Jordan to agree before she wandered off with Leah’s eyes following her longingly. She watched for a while until she met YFN’s eye and blushed, having been caught. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to which she gave a smile in return.

“We really need to go.” Ruby stressed. She looked at the time and groaned. She only had time for quick goodbyes with everyone and a threat to Katie and Caitlin to not have sex in her bed. Katie seemed to enjoy the idea of the threat, to be honest, and that terrified her.

She rushed through security as quickly as possible and was the last person to board the flight, sweating and grateful she’d made it, though cursing herself for having to stay longer just to make sure Kyra and Courtney were good. As with her morning flight, she passed out immediately and wished she had a chance for a shower before seeing Lucy. Instead of a shower, she tidied herself up in the bathroom at the Barcelona airport when she touched down, changing her clothes and washing away the day. She brushed her teeth and did her nightly makeup routine, ignoring some funny looks. She sure as hell wasn’t going to let her skin suffer more than it already was with the change in weather between the UK and Spain.

Her Uber dropped her off at just before 3am and for some reason she was nervous, jiggling the keys Lucy had given her in her hands and playing with the little flags. At the front door she took a deep breath in and unlocked the door, entering as quietly as possible so as to not wake Lucy or Narla. She kicked off her shoes and left her suitcase in the entrance, not wanting to risk the wheels waking them. The smell as she walked into the house was home. Vanilla and bitter orange, and whatever the hell Lucy had been cooking for dinner. She swore she could even smell the big breakfast they’d had that morning. She looked at the trophy Lucy still had out and smiled, putting her phone on charge next to it before tip-toeing her way into the bedroom.

Lucy was quite literally dead asleep. She was on her back facing YFN’s side of the bed, one hand touching the pillow YFN had been sleeping on the night before. She was beautiful. She loved seeing her so vulnerable and herself. Her dark hair was spread out over the pillow, another thing she loved. Lucy with her hair down. She clicked the door closed quietly and snuck around to her side of the bed, avoiding Lucy’s collection of shoes around the bed. She carefully laid down and when she touched Lucy’s hand to move it, she jerked awake, her head rising and her eyes opening.

“It’s just me.” She whispered and put a hand to her cheek, coming closer so Lucy could see her better without her glasses.

“What? What?” She was dazed and confused, her body tense.

“Shhh. Shhhh.” She comforted and cuddled up to her, her head finding Lucy’s collarbone. “It’s okay, it’s just me. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Little one?” She asked, unbelieving. “You…you’re here.”

Her arms wrapped around YFN tighter than they ever had before, holding her close to her body, her own body softening into her. “Is everything okay?!”

“Everything’s fine, Luce. I have the next two days off. I’m all yours.”

Lucy groaned happily and kissed her wherever she could reach.

“Sleep now, Luce.”

“You’re home,” she whispered huskily with emotion, her voice already fading.

“I’m home.”

[bb-sg]

Beg Pt.4

Part 4 is here!

I recommend reading the first parts of the story if you haven't already.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

Relationship(s): Geto x fem!Reader, Gojo x fem!Reader

CW: fingering, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, punishment, impact play.

You waited until the notifications stopped and you heard the last ping. You smirked at the phone, laughing at the irony of everyone trying to reach him while you were seeking his attention too.

On the lock screen, illuminating from the phone, was a message from Geto Suguru reading, “Hi Y/N.”

Is he using his friend’s phone to text me?

You bit your lip, your cheeks burned involuntarily. The message was a couple days old, but you still hesitated before writing out your reply. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were nervous.

You wrote and rewrote your message several times before sending a simple, “Hello?”, back.

You continued to gather water and mindlessly fish while you waited for a response.

-Geto Suguru: Gojo told me about you, and how you helped him. I figured I should at least thank you. Saved us the hassle of doing it ourselves. I’m Geto. His friend.

He told someone about me?

You were nervous. You stayed away from people for a reason.

You hesitated in responding. You thought about ignoring the message and waiting to see if Gojo would try to reach out to you himself. Although, this seemed like the best option if you wanted to see him again.

I really do want to see him again though.

-You: Oh, it was no problem. Happy to help him out. Is he okay?

You hoped that the message didn’t come across as desperate. Even if you were.

-Geto: Yeah, the knucklehead is back to normal. Only thanks to you, love. I’m surprised he hasn’t called you yet, you were all he talked about for a week.

This response made you giddy, and weak in the knees. Just like when you had a crush on the playground. You had no reason to believe this man, he was a stranger to you after all, but God did you hope he was telling the truth.

-You: I’m sure he’s busy, just happy he’s okay.

You tried to leave your response vague and devoid of the eagerness you genuinely felt. Not wanting to come off too strong.

-Geto: I’ll have to owe you a favor. Gojo said you live out in a forest. Is that right?

You bit your lip, feeling your nerves bubbling to the surface. The conversation between the two of you began to flow organically. You felt a swell of emotions building up when you realized an hour had flown by and you were still texting him. The conversation was friendly and welcoming.  He was easy to get along with, and seemed calm and collected, especially compared to Gojo’s rowdier personality.

You couldn’t believe that he was real. You started to question whether or not Gojo was even real or if you imagined this whole thing. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you were awake.

One thing didn’t make sense to you though: Why did he start talking to you anyway?

I don’t want to ask and have this whole thing become ruined.

-You: Hey, why did you start talking to me anyway? 

There was a pregnant pause after you sent the message. You waited impatiently as you stared at the screen, muscles clenched with anxiety, but the phone remained silent.

Why wouldn’t he respond to that message?

The sun was starting to set but you didn’t want to leave until you heard from him. You tried to brush it off as you slowly packed up your things. You were dragging your feet, hoping that you heard the phone go off before dusk set in.

As you started your hike back to your home, you racked your brain trying to piece together what any of your conversation with Geto Suguru really meant. You felt drawn to him for some reason, you wanted to trust him and believe that he was being genuine in his interest in talking to you.

You heard rustling coming from the depths of the forest. You peered into the darkness trying to see what it was. You picked up the pace, eager to get out of this area and back to your home. 

It feels like someone is watching me…

Your eyes kept scanning the forest, waiting for the shadows to move and for someone to jump out at you. You liked living in desolation since you rarely ran into anyone, but you couldn’t deny that this place had an ominous aura about it. Especially in this moment.

You noticed that something shifted among the trees. You froze in place, your hand gripped your face mask tightly, getting ready to defend yourself.

Your heart pounded in your chest, body started to tremble as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. You opened your mouth ready to command whatever it was to leave you alone when you felt a hand clamp over your mouth and pull you in.

What the fuck. Who is this? What do I do?

You tried to fight back against the person, swinging your elbow back to try knock them back. They grabbed your arm quickly and anchored it to your side.

“Whoa there kitten, put the claws away, it’s just me!”

You recognized the playful and animated voice immediately. Gojo.

“I thought it might be fun to try and scare ya a little but you’re a little jumpy today huh?”

He leaned in close to whisper in your ear, his hand still clamped tightly over your lips. You weren't any more relaxed knowing it was him lurking in the shadows. Your heart was still racing, your body was still tense and rigid.  

His presence was overwhelming. You felt intimidated by his energy, his height and how close he was to you.

“Oi, I’m going to let you go but you gotta promise not to do anything stupid.” You could hear the smile in his voice as his hand dropped down and he stepped back and away from you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to check that phone for like a month. You were starting to hurt my pride!”

You turned around and took him in. He was dressed casually in a long sleeve white sweater and black jeans, topping it off with his black shades he was so fond of. He was feigning a hurt expression with his hand covering his forehead and his other hand clenching at his heart.

“I was starting to think you were only using me for my body.” He smirked and looked at you over his glasses. His brilliant eyes were sparkling, much more of life than the last time you saw him.

In an instant you remembered how irritating he can be though.

What an ass.

You playfully swung to smack him on the arm, but he swiftly dodged it, laughing at your attempt.

“You couldn’t hit me if you tried princess!” He cackled.

Your face soured as he belittled you. You looked him up and down and held your hands on your hips, challenging him.

I know I can’t win but I’ll be damned if he’s going to talk to me that way.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and cocked his head to the side.

“Well, c’mon then. Let’s see it.”

You instantly threw a punch towards him, but missed as he leaned just out of range. He laughed as he straightened up.

“What was that? That was a terrible punch!” He laughed throwing his head back.

This asshole! He’s only been here for two minutes, and he pissed me off.

He finally stopped laughing and held his hands up, when he saw how angry you were.

“Oi! Don’t get all mad now. How about I show you how to throw a punch eh?” He slowly approached you and like he would a rapid dog. You kept your fist clenched to your side as he walked around you, stopping right behind you.

His hands landed on your shoulders firmly, rubbing them up and down to get you to relax. Your skin prickled with goosebumps when you felt the warmth emitting from his hands. Gojo pulled you back against his chest while resting his chin on your shoulder. “Relax,” he whined in your ear.

You gasped, flustered by how close he was again. He shook your arms a little until you gave in and loosened up enough for him to manipulate your limbs. He lifted and guided your arms and hands into a fighting position with your hands up guarding your face.

“There. keep your hands up so you can protect yourself. You want to be able to react quickly if necessary. When you throw a punch, you need the force to come from your hips.” He instructed you in a serious tone.

His hands left your arms and drifted down to your pelvis, gripping you tightly. He tapped your thigh and used one of his feet to gently push your dominant leg back, staggering your feet. You stumbled a little bit he stabilized you. You felt the rumble of his chuckle against your back.

“Now, rotate your hips and really throw your fist like you’re trying to punch through your target.” He whispered in your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin. He walked you through the motion with his hands, his body flush against yours, correcting your form gently.

“Just like that kitten.” His breath tickled your neck as he repeated the same technique a few more times. “Good. You’re doing so well.”

 He’s got to be doing this on purpose.

Your skin burned as your mind raced with indecent fantasies of him whispering the same phrases to you under different circumstances.

“Now that’s how you hit someone. Not that you’ll ever be in danger with me around.” He slowly retracted himself from you and shoved his hands back into his pockets. The same smug smile as earlier returning.

“Anyway, enough about you being defenseless”, he stuck his tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes at how childish he was. “I’ve been checking the find my phone app constantly, waiting for you to get service. Took ya long enough.”

He started walking towards your house, only looking back when he noticed you weren’t following him.

“You coming? I’m starving, I hope you stocked up on food this time.”

Why did I miss him...

You sighed and ran to catch up to his long legs. You two walked in silence, finding a comfortable pace as you navigated your way through the forest. You snuck nervous glances over to scan his features, waiting for any clues that would help you understand why he was here.

His face remained calm and peaceful, he seemed to be enjoying the walk. You almost didn’t want to disturb him. The way he looked lost in a daydream made you wish the walk was longer.

Curiosity got the best of you though. You took out the phone and typed out a message before tapping him on the shoulder to catch his attention as you held the phone out.

He looked back at you before reading your message.

-Why are you here?

He laughed, “What, I can’t stop in to say hi?”

He playfully shoved you with his shoulder and you couldn’t help my smile, cheeks burning up.

“I just wanted to see you. Plus, I’ve been training nonstop since I saw you last. I could use a break and your place seems like a good place to rest up and relax.” He pushed his glasses down the bridge of his nose to wink at you. “Among other things.”

You smacked his arm, and he yelped in mock surprise. You frantically typed out a reply.

-I’m not running a hotel or vacation home Gojo!

He threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t pay to stay out here, and you really don’t have any good amenities. You’re not really going to turn me away though, are you?”  His voice was smooth like velvet, and rich like honey.

You shrugged your shoulders halfheartedly.

“That’s the spirit!” He hollered in excitement before picking up the pace, his long legs leading the way.

Before long you reached your house and began unloading everything. Gojo immediately started rifling through your kitchen looking for sweets.

You watched him curiously. A small smile forming on your face. You hated to admit it, but you did stop at the store and grabbed a few things he might like after his last visit. He happily tore into some mochi he had found.

How does he just worm himself into my house so easily?

You glanced at the phone and remembered that you were waiting for Geto’s reply. You opened the messages and saw he had replied.

-Geto: You seemed interesting from what Gojo had said about you. Someone worth getting to know. Is this okay?

You bit your lip before putting the phone to sleep. You couldn’t help but feel excited about his response. You quickly changed your facial expression before Gojo could see. You wondered if Gojo knew that his best friend had been texting you all day. For some reason, it felt wrong.

You didn’t see how Gojo’s jaw clenched in annoyance when he did catch how your face lit up when you looked at your phone. You didn’t know that he could see everything.

You began to write a message to tell Gojo about your conversation with Geto when he interrupted you by grabbing your hand and pulling you to sit on the couch with him. He seemed giddy as he smirked at you.

“Guess what! I’ve been working on a cursed technique that may be able to protect me from your cursed speech! You’d be able to talk to me without having to worry about cursing me!”

You gawked at him, genuinely shocked and confused by his news. You didn’t believe him at first, but the look on his face told you he was being honest. He was excited but there was a hint of determination and seriousness underneath his happy demeanor. He almost seemed tense beneath it all.

I’ve never been able to openly talk to anyone. You had a thousand questions but couldn’t force yourself to ask any of them, so he continued explaining.

“I’ve been working on creating an infinite space around me, like a shield, that’ll make it impossible for anything to touch me. Including your cursed energy.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to make sense of his explanation and understand his technique.

He took your hand in his and squeezed it softly, bringing your focus back to him. “Maybe we should try it out and see if it works.”

He took off his glasses and folded them into his pocket. He met your gaze before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to talk to him.

You pulled your mask down and around your neck. His eye immediately went to stare at your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. He loved being able to see your entire face. He adored how flustered you looked, biting at your beautiful lips, barely making eye contact with him. It made him want to ruin you.

He encouraged you more, “Go ahead. I want to hear your beautiful voice angel.”

You cleared your throat, “S-sorry, I’m nervous. I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice shook as you concentrated on choosing your words carefully. Suddenly, your throat felt dry and tight.

He smiled wide and squeezed your hand tighter, pulling your hand to his chest and leaning into you. His face inches away from yours.

“Your voice is sweet, like sugar.”

You giggled, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

“Thank you, Gojo. Is it hard to keep up your technique?”

His smile faltered a bit, you almost didn't catch it the change before he plastered on a cheesy smile again. “I can hold it for a bit without much trouble. I’m working on finding out how to regenerate my cursed energy indefinitely, but I haven't quite perfected it yet. I can keep it up for about an hour constantly before I get tired. C’mon, try to curse me, give me your best shot.”

Is he doing this for me?

You studied his body language, looking for any signs that he was exhausting himself. Your gaze landed on his lips which were so close to yours. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You felt a familiar ache in your body, your skin burning up.

“Kiss me. I mean if you want-”  You began before he cut you off and his lips met yours. Your lips molded together as his hand snaked into your hair. 

He groaned into the kiss as he pulled you into his lap and held onto your hip. He guided you into place and held you down against him. His fingers snuck under your clothes to grip at your bare skin, his touch burned into your skin. You dug your fingers into his chest as you gently bit his bottom lip, begging for more.

 Wait!

You broke away from the kiss in a panic. You pulled away quickly and covered your mouth with both hands.

Did I just force him to do that?

You felt the vibrations of his laugh against your body as he pulled your hands away from your face and into his own.

“Don’t worry, it was my choice to do that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you.”  He took your face in his hands to force you to look at him. He was beautiful. The contrast between his vibrant blue eyes and smooth white skin made you weak.

“It looks like my technique works though.” He moved your head to the side with his hand and laid soft kisses on your neck. “Now... Tell me all about yourself.”

His kisses ignited the fire inside you, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips everywhere on your body. You tried to form words, but they were stuck in your throat.

“C’mon kitten, focus. Don't let me distract you.” you felt a sharp sting on your ass when his hand landed on you. You gasped and bucked your hips forward against him trying to pull away from his hand. He groaned when you inadvertently bucked against his hips. “You know I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to hear your voice. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say.” You quipped anxiously, more focused on how his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Let’s play a game, 20 questions. Each time you answer one of my questions, I’ll reward you but if you don’t answer my question, then I’ll have to punish you.” He nipped at your ear mischievously as he ground his hips up into yours.

You chuckled to hide your nervousness, agreeing to his game with a simple nod.

“Alright kitten. Tell me, “He paused thoughtfully. “Where are you from?”

You gripped his shoulders tightly, relishing the way his fingers grazed up the skin on your back, tracing the curve of your spine.

“Kyoto. I’m from Kyoto,” you whispered.

“Good girl.” He purred into your neck as he hooked one of his fingers into the neck of your shirt and pulled it down your shoulder. He sucked small bruises into your skin as his lips followed the ridge of your collarbone. You moaned softly at the sensation.

He hummed appreciatively at your response. “Has anyone taught you how to use your cursed energy?”

He turned more serious, the graveness in his voice made you want to shrink away from him. You felt your cursed energy flare up due to your anxiety. It could taste it building in your throat. You forced it down to the pit of your stomach.

“Yes. when I was young.”

He hummed again, biting your skin. One of his hands snuck its way into your bra and gently caressed your breast. You gasp at the contact as he squeezed and tweaked your sensitive nipple. The fabric of your shirt felt rough compared to his soft touches. Gojo continued to nip and kiss at your neck and shoulder.

“Who taught you angel?” He inquired.

You shook your head no, refusing to respond. There were some things you wanted to keep private. This was a part of your story you didn’t plan on telling anyone. You tried to pull back from him, but he held you in place.

He tutted in your ear before stilling all his movements. “No? You’re going to give me the silent treatment on that one?”

He pulled back away from you to stare at your face. “Punishment it is.” His eyes darkened and he pinched your nipple hard enough to make you yelp.

He squeezed your ass before pushing you off him.

“Take your pants off, now.” He commanded in a low voice.

You wanted to refuse, not give into his game, but you craved him more than you wanted to admit. You felt starved for touch while you raked over his form. He sat with his legs spread wide, his elbows perched on his knees while he leaned on them. His eyes followed your every move as you gave in to his authority and began sliding your pants and shoes off.

“Now, turn around and bend over in front of me. Keep your hands on your knees no matter what.” You heard his command. “Count each one.”

You didn’t have to see him to know what his plan was. You heard the impact before you felt the sharp sting on your backside. Your skin igniting aflame where his hit had landed.

“O-one.” You meekly let out, bracing yourself for the next one.

“Hm I couldn’t hear you. Louder this time.” The next slap was harder than the first.

You squealed, “Two!”

You bit back a sound that was a cross between a screen and moan. Tears built up in your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you felt the wetness building in your core. He rubbed and kneaded the cheek he had just slapped. He groaned when his fingers grazed your panty clad warmth, noticing the damp spot growing.

He spread your cheeks apart to admire you. You heard him groan before you felt his breath against your hot skin. he gently the area he had already slapped before squeezing your hips, pushing you away from him.

“You drive me fucking crazy. I’m almost not able to control myself.” His voice was rough, almost guttural. You looked back at him and saw the relaxed and excited Gojo was gone. His pupils were blown wide with lust and glued to your core. “Eyes forward.” He barked as his eyes flickered to yours. You turned your head back and waited in anticipation.

The last strike caused you to moan in agony and euphoria. He chuckled and rubbing his hands over your ass to soothe you, occasionally brushing against your center.

“You’re so wet, I could take you so easily kitten.” Gojo teased you before he coaxed you to sit down next to him. You winced at the sharp pain that jolted through your body when your skin made contact with the couch.

“You know I don’t like to punish you, right angel?” He cooed while stroking your cheek. His eyes feigned concern and his smile was anything but sincere.

“That’s a lie.” You snapped back.

“Yeah. You are right, guess you got me there.” He laughed and draped his arm on the back of the couch, caging you in. “Now. Let’s pick up where we left off hmm?”

His fingers brushed over your thighs teasingly. “Let’s try some more easy ones…”, he tapped his finger on his chin while he pondered.

“Ah! What’s your favorite flower?” He leaned his head against his arm while he watched you consider his question. His eyes sparkled mischievously while he oozed charm.

You laughed at his sudden change in attitude and answered his question. 

He smiled and gripped your thigh tightly sliding them apart. “Now I get to reward you and I’ll know what to bring you next time I stop by.”

Next time? You bit your lip at how nervous that made you.

He continued to ask simple, basic questions about you. He asked what your favorite food was, what sports you liked and what kind of music you liked. Each time you answered his fingers moved another inch up your leg until his fingers were tracing the outline of your panties.

“Take your clothes off angel. I want to see you.” He cooed while pulling the band of your panties down while you lifted yourself up enough for him to slide them off. You pulled your shirt and bra off and threw them on the floor. Your heart rate quickened as you felt your need for him growing.

His fingers traced up and down your slit lightly, just grazing you, teasing you.

“You’re so desperate, already soaking wet for me. I can even hear it.” He listened while he ran his fingers between your puffy lips, hearing the sound of his fingers gliding through your slick.

“Stop teasing me Gojo.” You panted out, annoyed with his game. He felt some of your cursed energy seeping into the room, he didn’t think you were even aware that you were trying to curse him.

“If you don’t drop the attitude, you won’t get anything.” His face turned to stone as he spread your legs further apart.

“Tell me angel, do you get lonely up here?” He asked while he regarded your naked body with fondness and desire.

You shook your head, surprised at his boldness before you answered him.  “Yeah, I guess. Sometimes.”

His finger dipped into your entrance slowly, he groaned quietly as he slid in easily. He began pumping his finger in and out of you, his eyes were glued to the sight of his finger shimmering with your wetness.

“Hmm... did you miss me?” His aura had shifted, feeling a sudden coldness wash over you.

“You really are full of yourself.” You retorted.

He gripped your chin in his hands before squeezing them together.

“Answer me.” He released you, his eyes bored into you. You felt him looking through you, you felt even more naked under his gaze.

“Y-yeah. I did.”

He stroked your cheek again as his thumb brushed against your clit. Your back arched and muscles clenched around him. You lost yourself in the feeling, but you wanted him to give you more.

“Have you been talking to anyone, besides me of course?”

You couldn’t think straight while he curled his finger deep inside of you, brushing against your walls in a way that made your toes curl. You moaned before clenching your hands into fists, you shook your head.

“N-not really.” You choked out.

He frowned and slid another finger inside you. You gasped at how good the stretch felt with his long fingers inside you. He brushed his thumb against your clit again, eliciting an uncontrollable moan to out of you.

“Were you planning on telling me that my friend was texting you today? It’s not nice to keep secrets from friends angel.” His voice dropped several octaves while his movements slowed to a halt.

You froze, stunned that you forgot to tell him but even more shocked by the fact that he knew the whole time. Slowly you shook your head.

You sat up and tried to explain,” Gojo I wa- “.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet as he towered over you.

“On your knees.” He commanded. “Maybe you can earn the right to call me Satoru.”

************************************************************************

Not my favorite chapter but I'm so excited about where it's going!

Angst to come!

Thank you for reading, likes and reblogging is appreciated, It helps spread my work! Much love.

Please do not repost. I do not own any jjk characters or artwork.

@purpleguk @shuxjodie @kama-star @creolequeen11210 @herosinos @fonkymonkeyfriday @coffee-addict-32

[callmekenya]

Pairings: Uma x m!Y/n

Warnings: Contains mild violence, blood, intense emotional themes, and complex relationships. Suitable for mature teens and adults.

_________________________________________

The sun was setting over the Isle of the Lost, casting long shadows across the dilapidated buildings and trash-strewn streets. In a dimly lit room aboard Uma's ship, Y/n, son of Eris, sat reading an ancient tome on chaos magic. The sudden burst of the door flying open barely fazed him as Uma stormed in, her eyes alight with excitement and a touch of malice.

"Y/n! You won't believe what's happened," Uma exclaimed, her braids swinging as she paced the small cabin. "Mal and her little gang are back on the Isle. And get this – they brought Prince Ben with them!"

Y/n's eyebrow arched slightly as he closed his book. "Is that so? How... interesting." His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. "I assume you have plans for this fortuitous turn of events?"

Uma's grin was sharp as a shark's. "Oh, you know me so well. I've already sent Harry and Gil to bring our royal visitor to us. But Y/n..." Her voice softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability showing through her tough exterior. "What about Mal? Are you going to try to win her back?"

Y/n sat up straighter, his golden eyes fixed on Uma. "And why would I do that, Uma? Do you think she deserves my attention after everything?"

Uma opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Y/n stood, crossing the room in a few smooth strides. He took Uma's hand in his, his touch gentle despite the calluses from years of wielding weapons.

"Uma," he said softly, "you should know by now. You have me, all of me. There's no need for jealousy or doubt."

Uma's breath caught in her throat. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Y/n pulled a dagger from his belt. The blade glinted in the low light as he made a swift cut across his palm, then did the same to Uma's hand. She didn't flinch, her eyes locked on his face.

"With this blood, I bind us," Y/n intoned, pressing their bleeding palms together. "Our lives, our souls, united as one. Do you accept this bond, Uma?"

Uma's voice was barely a whisper. "I do."

A faint glow surrounded their joined hands, and Uma gasped as she felt a surge of power flow through her. When it faded, Y/n cupped her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Now and always," he murmured, before turning and walking away, leaving Uma to process what had just occurred.

Meanwhile, in Ursula's Fish and Chips shop, chaos reigned. Mal had burst in, her eyes glowing green with barely contained fury.

"Where is he, Uma?" Mal demanded, magic crackling around her fists.

Uma lounged against the counter, a smirk playing on her lips. "Who, your precious little king? Oh, he's safe... for now."

Mal lunged forward, but Uma was ready. The two girls clashed in a flurry of fists and magic, their battle destroying tables and sending patrons fleeing.

"You've gotten soft in Auradon, Mal," Uma taunted as she dodged a blast of green energy. "Forgotten how we do things on the Isle?"

Mal snarled, her pixie heritage giving her enhanced speed and agility. "I haven't forgotten anything, Uma. Including how to take you down!"

The fight intensified, both girls drawing blood and leaving scorch marks on the walls. Just as Mal was about to land a devastating blow, a sudden pulse of energy sent her flying backwards. She crashed into the wall, her head ringing from the impact.

As Mal struggled to her feet, she saw Uma surrounded by a shimmering aura of power. Uma's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in triumph.

"Well, well," Uma purred. "Looks like I've got a guardian angel. Or should I say, a guardian chaos god?"

Mal's heart clenched as realization dawned. "Y/n," she whispered.

Uma's grin was vicious. "That's right, Mal. He's with me now. And if you want to see your precious Ben alive again, you'll bring me Fairy Godmother's wand."

Mal's jaw tightened. "Fine. But this isn't over, Uma."

As Mal turned to leave, Uma couldn't resist one final jab. "Oh, and Mal? Y/n sends his regards. We've gotten quite... close."

Mal paused, her back to Uma. "Is that so? Well, you might want to ask yourself, Uma – if he's so devoted to you, why does he always come running when I'm in danger?" With that parting shot, Mal stalked out of the shop.

Y/n's hideout was a testament to his parentage – a swirling mix of order and chaos, beautiful and terrifying all at once. When Mal and her friends entered, they found him lounging on a throne-like chair, idly toying with a ball of crackling energy.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter of evil," Y/n drawled, his eyes fixed on Mal. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mal stepped forward, her chin raised defiantly. "Cut the act, Y/n. What's this I hear about you and Uma?"

Y/n's laugh was cold and bitter. "Act? Oh, Mal. You're the one who's been acting. Playing at being good, pretending you belong in Auradon. At least I know who and what I am."

He stood, moving closer to Mal. In one swift motion, he snatched the necklace from around her neck – the one he had given her long ago.

"You don't need this anymore," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Uma deserves everything I can give her. My love, my loyalty, my devotion. She's never tried to change me or leave me behind."

Mal's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Y/n, please. This isn't you. Uma's using you, can't you see that?"

Y/n's expression hardened. "No, Mal. For the first time, I see clearly. Now go. Try to save your king. But remember – the Isle always wins in the end."

As Mal and her friends left, Evie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Mal squared her shoulders. "I have to be. We have a wand to fake and a king to save."

On Uma's ship, Y/n watched as she paced back and forth, muttering to herself. "Uma," he called out, concern lacing his voice. "What's troubling you?"

Uma stopped, turning to face him. "It's what Mal said. About you always coming when she's in danger. Is... is that true?"

Y/n sighed, pulling Uma close. "Come with me," he said, leading her to her cabin. Once inside, he retrieved a dusty tome from a hidden compartment.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, opening the book to a specific page. Uma shook her head.

"This," Y/n explained, "is a record of ancient rituals and bonds. The blood-sharing we did? It's more than just a symbolic gesture. For beings like us – demigods, children of chaos – it's as binding as any marriage. More so, even. Our souls are literally entwined now, Uma."

Uma's eyes widened. "So when you saved me during the fight with Mal..."

Y/n nodded. "I felt your danger. Our bond called me to protect you. It has nothing to do with Mal, and everything to do with us."

Uma's face softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Harry burst into the cabin. "They're back!" he announced. "With the wand!"

The confrontation on the dock was tense. Mal held out the fake wand, her eyes never leaving Uma's face.

"The wand for Ben," she said firmly.

Uma reached for it, but Y/n's hand on her arm stopped her. "Be careful," he murmured. "Remember what we discussed about Fae magic."

Uma nodded, then took the wand. She waved it, expecting a surge of power. When nothing happened, her face contorted with rage.

"You lied!" she snarled, lunging at Mal.

Y/n caught her, holding her back. "Uma, stop. This isn't the way."

As chaos erupted around them, Y/n locked eyes with Mal over Uma's head. For a moment, something passed between them – regret, understanding, a hint of the connection they once shared. Then the moment was gone, and the battle raged on.

The Cotillion was in full swing when Ben arrived with Uma on his arm. The shocked gasps of the attendees were music to Uma's ears as Ben declared his love for her.

But the triumph was short-lived. Mal's true love's kiss broke the spell, and Uma found herself backed into a corner. With a cry of rage and pain, she leapt into the sea, the magic of her mother's shell transforming her into a magnificent, terrifying cecaelia.

As Mal transformed into a dragon to meet her, Uma felt a surge of power flow through her. Y/n's gift, their bond, giving her strength. The battle was fierce, water against fire, tentacles against wings.

In the end, it was Ben who stopped the fight. As Uma swam away, her heart heavy with defeat, she knew where she was going – back to the one person who truly understood her.

Y/n stood on the shore of the Isle, his eyes scanning the horizon. When he saw Uma emerge from the waves, her octopus form melting away, he opened his arms without a word.

Uma collapsed against him, her body shaking with silent sobs. Y/n held her close, stroking her hair.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're home now. We'll find another way, Uma. I promise you, one day, we'll have the freedom you dream of. Together."

Uma looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of tears and determination. "Promise?"

Y/n smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I swear it on the chaos that runs through our veins. You and me, Uma. Always."

As they stood there, the sun setting behind them, Y/n and Uma knew that this was just the beginning of their story. The Isle of the Lost might be their prison for now, but with their combined power and cunning, it was only a matter of time before they rewrote the rules of their world.

After all, in chaos, there was always opportunity. And they were nothing if not masters of chaos.

[pjo-tvs-version]

In honor of Annabeth Chase's birthday, I have written another fanfic. This one is based on @helpallthenamesaretakensblog 's post. It's another Annabeth POV because I just liked writing those. The title is from Taylor's Out of the Woods. Happy Reading!! :)

Your necklace hanging from my neck, the night we couldn’t quite forget

“Plans?” Hazel asked. “Nico has until sunset—at best. And this entire city is supposedly getting destroyed today.” I know that as a daughter of Athena I couldn't give in to the pleasure of ignorance. To escape from the harsh reality we were in. But Hazel saying the obvious out loud was definitely not helping my nerves.

Percy shook himself out of his daze. “You’re right. Annabeth…did you zero in on that spot from your bronze map?” Panic rose in me. I willed my eyes to convey this one message in bold: Remember what I said, buddy. Keep that dream to yourself. I have to answer the question nonetheless so I try to give as little information as possible. “Yes,” I say carefully. “It’s on the Tiber River. I think I can find it, but I should—” 

“Take me along,” Percy finished. What was seriously wrong with him today? I had tried to cajole him by giving so many logical reasons about why exactly he shouldn't be there. But knowing his irritating, endearing and loyal nature, he wasn't going to learn to accept this point easily. As bothersome it was, a small part of my heart was fluttering with happiness at his immense concern for me. Even though the odds of me surviving were… No Annabeth I chide myself, you will not think about this. So I decide to of course use the classic stare that overcomes any problem.

 “Yeah, you’re right.” I replied sprinkled with a deathly glare. “That’s not—” “Safe,” he supplied. “One demigod walking through Rome alone. I’ll go with you as far as the Tiber. We can use that letter of introduction, hopefully meet the river god Tiberinus. Maybe he can give you some help or advice. Then you can go on alone from there.”  Percy was making this impossible. I was finding it inevitable to leave everyone on Argo II as I went on to my death solo quest, but parting from Percy was going to be the hardest.

We had a silent staring contest, but Percy didn’t back down. Staring contests were better ways of dealing with a disagreement then words. It was far more expressive and impactful. But Percy didn't back down. As sweet as he was, his stubborn nature wasn't all that pleasing at times. He was making it hard to say goodbye. He was endangering his life once again for me when it wasn't required because the odds of me surviving were in negative. But as I stared into his eyes, there was determination. The same one I saw 3 years ago in Mt. Saint Helens. The same look on his face before I kissed him. I felt my gaze flicker.

“Fine,” I muttered, accepting defeat. “Hazel, now that we’re in Rome, do you think you can pinpoint Nico’s location?” Hazel blinked, as if coming out of a trance from watching our glare competition. “Um…hopefully, if I get close enough. I’ll have to walk around the city. Frank, would you come with me?” I could practically see Frank beaming. “Absolutely.” “And, uh…Leo,” Hazel added. “It might be a good idea if you came along too. The fish-centaurs said we’d need your help with something mechanical.” “Yeah,” Leo said, “no problem.” Frank’s smile turned into something more like Chrysaor’s mask. I was pretty good at reading people’s emotions so I could always feel the tension among those three. Ever since they’d gotten knocked into the Atlantic, they hadn’t acted quite the same. It wasn’t just the two guys competing for Hazel. It was like the three of them were locked together, acting out some kind of murder mystery, but they hadn’t yet discovered which of them was the victim. 

Piper drew her knife and set it on the rail. “Jason and I can watch the ship for now. I’ll see what Katoptris can show me. But, Hazel, if you guys get a fix on Nico’s location, don’t go in there by yourselves. Come back and get us. It’ll take all of us to fight the giants.” I knew she wasn't stating the most obvious fact that we had no god on our side so this was kind of a one sided battle. As much I craved for victory, I couldn’t help but go through the never ending list of reasons why we were never winning this battle. Think positive Annabeth, a little optimism couldn’t hurt right?

“Good idea,” Percy said. “How about we plan to meet back here at…what?” “Three this afternoon?” Jason suggested. “That’s probably the latest we could rendezvous and still hope to fight the giants and save Nico. If something happens to change the plan, try to send an Iris message.” The others nodded in agreement, but I could feel their gaze fall on me. At once I felt guilty of not telling them the whole creepy truth. That I would die most probably from facing the ultimate fear of every Athena child. I would have to face Ar-. Let’s not think about it.

I would be on a different schedule. I might be back at three, or much later, or never. But I would do whatever I can to find the Athena Parthenos. Coach Hedge grunted. “That’ll give me time to eat the coconuts—I mean dig the coconuts out of our hull. Percy, Annabeth…I don’t like you two going off on your own. Just remember: behave. If I hear about any funny business, I will ground you until the Styx freezes over.” Unwillingly, I felt myself flush. It was just one night of privacy in which we unfortunately just slept ( and had a few good kisses). However, the idea of getting grounded when we were about to risk their lives was so ridiculous, that I couldn’t help smiling. “We’ll be back soon,” Percy promised. I try to look at each of them and shake the dreadful feeling that this will be the last time I would see them together.

I headed down to my cabin to check and recheck my shoulder bag. Ambrosia, nectar, flashlight, matchboxes (it was something my father suggested), 2 bottles of water, a sandwich, drachmas and then came across a picture of me and Percy. It was a photo of us after we had started dating, one which Sally clicked. 

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. From the rhythm, I knew who the intruder/visitor was. “May I come in Wise Girl?” “ No you can’t” I reply, laced with sarcasm. The handle clicks open and I see Percy fidget more than usual with his hands. “I wanted to check on you” there was a pause and then, “wanted to make sure you were alright and ready for…” He didn’t complete his sentence. 

“Yeah, yeah I'm ready. I have checked, rechecked and checked again.” I replied. “You do remember to keep Ambrosia and Nectar right? And drachmas and first aid and-” “Yeah Seaweed Brain! Chill.” He was so concerned and anxious that I felt bad for him. But he needed to understand that he had to let go as there was no option B. If he went then Arch- no I would call her a Web-Weaving Wannabe. So if he went with me, she would most probably use him as bait and make my emotions go haywire and then I would make mistakes, fail to save Greece, fail to save the world-“Okay cool. So are you ready to go? The others are about to leave.” Percy says, interrupting my thoughts. “Yeah, let's go” I replied. 

“Before that I wanted to give you something.” Percy adds with a note of jitteriness. His fidgeting had increased. So of course my anxiety being directly proportional started going overboard too. He reached behind his neck, for his camp necklace. It puzzled me. Why is he taking off his camp necklace? And then it came crashing on me. 5 years ago, the duel on the beach with Ares, the good old days where their chances of dying were lesser. Percy was giving his necklace to me? As I was going to my death battle the same way Percy did 5 years ago? He was doing the same thing I did. 

A wave of euphoria washed over me. My heart felt like it could burst with happiness. He really was such a Seaweed Brain.  My cute Seaweed Brain who couldn't stand seeing anyone in trouble. He took a few steps forward and I could see the matching blush on his cheeks. He tied it around my neck and I couldn’t help but beam. “Wear this, for good luck. It saved my life when I dueled with Ares and everything after that too. I know it’ll help you too. "he said as he finished the knot. He then held my hand a little tighter than usual. I couldn't help but hug him fiercely. 

I took in his inky mess of hair, the sadness in his sea green eyes which mirrored the stormy sea, the smile that played on his lips for a moment and  then dissolved like a wave on the shore. I couldn’t help but lean for a kiss. A kiss that lingered, a desperate attempt to hold onto what was slipping away. A goodbye kiss, laced with unspoken tears. A heartbreaking kiss, a silent plea for a different ending. “I’ll make it out. You’ll be alright.” I try to reassure him. He doesn't reply but everything he wanted to say was there in his eyes.

____________________________________________

As, me and Percy climbed down the cliff, I concentrated on the challenges at hand: keeping my footing, avoiding rockslides that would alert the Empousai to their presence and of course making sure we didn’t plummet to our deaths. About halfway down the precipice, I got breathless. My legs were wobbling badly,  my ankle screaming in protest with each step.

Tartarus was sapping my non-existent strength left. ‘Stop, okay? Just a quick break.’ Percy looked beyond worried. I felt so guilty about burdening him even more. We sat together on a ledge next to a roaring fiery waterfall. The splinters were shooting, threatening to burn us, the sulphurous was becoming suffocating with each breath. My ankle was beyond pain. A wave of nausea washed over me as the cramping pain intensified.

Percy put his arm around me, and I couldn’t help but lean against him, shaking from exhaustion. A hug like a warm blanket, safe and secure. It was a comforting embrace that melted all my worries even if it was for a few seconds. I pulled away from the momentary solace to get a look at him.

He wasn’t much better. He buried his face in my chest, his dark curls cascading down his arms in a curtain of pain. He fell into this dreadful place because of me. To save me, to not leave me alone. We would find a way out of Tartarus. We had to. 

Subconsciously my fingers traced a red coral necklace, the one Percy gave me. At once I felt Percy’s camp necklace. I removed my other hand with which I was holding Percy close. As I undid the knot, Percy looked at my slightly puzzled and there pain etched on his pain even as he tried to hide it. As I started to try my necklace around his neck, he stopped me. “Keep it, you need to make it out of here.” 

“WE need to make it out of here, especially you! So let’s do one thing since we both need good luck, let me give you mine.”  I looped the necklace over his head and let it rest against his skin. 

His lips were parched and his skin felt warm against mine. The firewater was churning in my stomach. “Promise that we’ll have each other's backs. We’ll make it out.” Percy declared with determination. I couldn’t help a melancholic smile. “I pinky promise. That’s the more solemn vow there is.” I add. A short, bitter laugh escapes his lips before our lips meet. My hands were in his jet black hair and our eyelids shut tight to shield us from the awful surroundings. We will make it out of here, I try to tell myself. Even if I don’t Percy will and there is no option B.

Also on AO3 here

So that's it! Hope you all liked it. As always, positive criticism is highly appreciated. Thank you Help for the lovely head cannon. Also there is this one line in the from the movie Wonka which Willy tells Noodle. Let's see if you can find it 👀

[brooklynn3253]

Fractured Moments

Bucky Barnes paced the dimly lit streets of Brooklyn, the cool autumn air brushing against his skin like a soothing balm. He could still feel the sting of the argument that had pierced the heart of his relationship. His fists were clenched, not out of anger but rather an insistent need to keep his emotions in check. His girlfriend, Sadie, had always been his anchor, and now – now he had somehow let them drift apart with reckless words.

Earlier that evening, they had been sitting in their cozy apartment, the aroma of tonight’s dinner lingering. What was meant to be a quiet night had spiraled into chaos. A seemingly harmless discussion about their future had turned sour as old wounds reopened. Bucky, still grappling with the shadows of his past, had reacted to her concerns with pointed remarks, hurting Sadie deeply.

“Do you ever listen to yourself?” she had shouted, tears glistening in her eyes. The pain in her voice had pierced through him like a bullet to the chest.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he had replied, his voice low but filled with an intensity that might have intimidate others. “I don’t want this life for you. Not with me.”

“It’s my choice, Bucky!” she had screamed, her voice echoing against the bare walls, the words sharp enough to cut through the air.

And in a moment of pure frustration, Bucky had stormed out, needing space to breathe, not realizing the impact of his departure.

As he roamed the streets, the city lights twinkled like distant stars against the backdrop of his guilt. With every step away from their home, the weight of regret pressed heavier upon his shoulders. How had he allowed the past to overshadow the possibility of a future with Sadie? Memories from his wartime experience crept into his mind, shadows of battles fought and people lost. He could still feel the cold grip of remorse.

After what felt like hours of aimless wandering, Bucky found himself standing on the waterfront, overlooking the glistening waves of the river. The rhythmic sound of water crashing against the shore brought a sense of calm, but deep down, a longing tugged at him. Sadie was everything he had ever wanted; she was the light in his dark world. He closed his eyes, replaying their argument, questioning why he had let his demons dictate his choices.

With the weight of indecision still heavy in his mind, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned back toward their apartment. Each step felt longer than the last. The return journey, while necessary, was also laced with the fear of what awaited him. Would Sadie still be there? Would he be able to comfort her? Or had he created a rift that would prove insurmountable?

As he reached their building and ascended the stairs, the sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the rapid beating of his heart. He fished out his key, hesitating for just a moment before pushing the door open. The sight that met him was one he had dreaded. Sadie sat curled up on the sofa, her red rimmed eyes flooded with tears. The warmth that once enveloped their home felt cold and desolate.

“Sadie…” he began, his voice cautious, but the plea hung heavy in the air.

She turned her gaze to him, the hurt written all over her face. “You came back,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Bucky stepped closer, his heart aching at the sight of her emotional turmoil. He knelt down in front of her, searching for the right words to heal the still fresh wound he had inflicted. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking, honesty pouring out. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. You have every right to be scared or concerned. You’re not choosing a life of danger—I am.”

She sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, and he saw the turmoil reflected in her eyes. He reached forward, his hand gently touching her knee, offering connection that he desperately wanted her to accept.

“I don’t want you to feel alone in this,” he continued gently. “I don’t want to push you away. Let me be a part of your life, Sadie. Please. We can face whatever comes together.”

“But you never let me in, Bucky,” she choked out, the pain of the truth resonating between them. “You act like I can’t handle your past, like it’ll ruin me. I’m here, I want to help you, but you keep pushing me away.”

He exhaled shakily, memories of dark times creeping into his mind. He fought against the urge to close off, to resign everything to solitude. “I’ve lost so many people I care about,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you too. It’s not that I think you can’t handle it. I just... I don’t know how to navigate it.”

A moment of silence passed between them, an unspoken understanding. Bucky could see the hurt in her eyes, but in that moment, he also saw her strength.

“Bucky,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “I love you, but you have to let me in. Let me be your partner, not just a spectator.”

His heart swelled. Tentatively, he intertwined their fingers, feeling warmth spread through him. “I love you too,” he whispered, the words laden with both sorrow and hope.

With a deep breath, she smiled through her tears. “I want to fight the demons together, Bucky. You don’t have to face this alone.”

And in that moment, as they sat together on the worn-out couch, hands clasped tightly, Bucky knew they could begin to mend the fractures in their hearts. Together.

[whiscey]

drop your devastating banana fish fanfics list bestie 🙇🏻‍♀️

AHSHWJEVJ YES OMG thank you so much for this ask!!! i have a very very long list of fanfics that i love so im not gonna put every single one here, but here’s a list of my favorites :)

note: 1) of course please be mindful of the tws— most of these have the usual list of the tws associated with ash’s trauma; 2) i don’t read anything that complies with the canonical ending cause i cannot handle that lol; 3) the first half of this list is just purely devastating, and then the second half is mostly just hurt/comfort; 4) the order in this doesn’t mean anything

I fell in love with a war and nobody told me it ended (by ihavenomorals): very shorter-centric; retells the canon events in his perspective (with it being heavily implied that he’s in love with ash); definitely very devastating, i cried multiple times while reading it

dead birds and bloodhounds (by ihavenomorals): also very shorter-centric lol; incredibly devastating for similar reasons as the last one (i also really really loved the ending of this one)

Streetlight angel. (by chaos101): this one’s also shorter-centric; a lot of pre-canon shorter’s thoughts about ash; i do not have words to describe how much i loved the whole “streetlight angel” thing

New York, New York 1980 (by wbss21): ash-centric; talks about precanon ash living on the streets (no shorter); genuinely so so heartbreaking

Just offscreen. (by chaos101): focuses on ash; please be very very careful with the warnings, this really graphic and can be very triggering; i almost feel weird recommending this one cause it’s not really meant to be read for enjoyment, but it’s very well-written and really really impactful so i do want to include it; almost threw up the first time i read this (and i mean that as a compliment to the writing, not in the sense that i personally found it triggering), it was so incredibly devastating and gut-punching

how strong the blood (by ihavenomorals): nadia-centric; it’s about nadia’s experience raising shorter on her own; one of the only fanfics i’ve read that focuses on nadia and i loved it so so much

Odour of Chrysanthemums (by nyanja14): eiji’s-mom-centric; eiji’s mom’s perspective on ash and his relationship with eiji after they move to japan; this was so cool ahdhwje, i loved how much depth and backstory they gave to eiji’s mom; one of the less devastating ones on this list, but it’s still so sad in its own right

like a peach (by Quintessence): asheijiii; eiji takes care of ash’s wounds (canon-compliant, takes place around when they rescue ash from dino) and they talk about how he sees himself; definitely a lot more hurt/comfort than pure devastation but the way ash sees himself is so heartbreaking :(

Hydrangea (by Bleed_Peroxide): jessica-centric; first half is jessica’s thoughts as she gets to know more about ash and then second half is an expansion on that one scene where jessica asks ash about what foxx did to him; also more hurt/comfort lol, but i love found family sooo much

Even that could be forgiven. Even Ash. (by chaos101): focuses on max and ash; obviously had to include this since i literally requested it lmao (don’t get me wrong tho– that’s not the only reason why it’s here; it’s here cause i love this fic a lot :3); ash thinks max is going to punish him for talking back to him and max comforts him; hurt/comfort

You’ve paid this world more than enough. (by chaos101): also focuses on max and ash; pretty similar to the last one but i just had to include this cause i love it so so much; hurt/comfort

Safe and Sound (by Dodici): focuses on shorter and ash; pretty short but so so impactful (literally took my breath away ahdvwjeh)

I wish that things had been different. (by chaos101): focuses on ash and griffin; it’s about ash’s reunion with griffin after he starts recovering from the effects of banana fish; this was so emotional and well-written abdvwjbd

Down toward the Healing (by Dodici): asheiji; part of a series (i recommend the series as a whole honestly, but definitely this fanfic in particular) called Eight Million Gods; it’s about ash struggling to find a therapist who works for him; the writing is so beautiful in this and i personally find it somewhat devastating in the sense that it’s a big reminder that healing takes time and a lot of effort

Feed My Body. Feed My Soul (by Wings_and_Feet): asheiji; it does have one (consensual) explicit scene, which is important to the plot but can also probably be skipped over if you’re not comfortable reading that; talks about ash’s relationship with food through eiji’s perspective (please be careful with the trigger warnings)

To Sleep; Perchance to Dream (by Wings_and_Feet): asheiji; it’s about ash and eiji’s post-canon life in japan and eiji’s family’s reactions to eiji being ash back home; literally one of my favorite post-canon japan fics ever, it’s soooo good; a lot of hurt/comfort

Pain Management (by Wings_and_Feet): asheiji; discusses ash’s struggles with addiction as a result of his experiences at Club Cod (not elaborating on this cause of the triggering content); i haven’t read many fics that talk about this, so i thought this was really interesting lol (and also it was very well-written)

Just because I love you. (by chaos101): asheiji; ash sickfic combined with ash and eiji talking about the horrible “he’s not your salvation” stuff blanca said to ash; genuinely one of my favorite sickfics ever (although that’s not really entirely the focus of the fanfic but like still)

How to love someone back. (by chaos101): asheiji; i saved the best for last :3; this is a character study of ash and it’s literally one of my favorite fanfics ever – please go read it, it’s so good aksjdke

bonuses :D (these count as bonuses since you requested devastating fics and these are pretty fluffy lol):

What you’ve been waiting for. (by chaos101): professor ash!! this fic is so sweet 🥹 i love it so much, it’s one of my comfort fics

the Childhood at Eighteen series (by armjail): asheiji; these are my other two comfort fics, they’re both so incredibly wholesome 🥹🥹

[antiquatedplumbobs]

Spring 1916

Joe's grand plan for a full service automotive service station in Brindleton Bay cleared a large hurdle in the Spring of 1916 with the securement of a sizeable investment from a certain Walter Fernald (heir of THE Fernald shipping fortune), who summered at the Cavalier Hotel every year. The sharp rise of excitement Will felt was mirrored by the swoop of dismay as he realized there really was nothing else for it: he had to tell his father.

It wasn't until after the evening milking that Will got the nerve to broach the subject. Twilight had descended on the farm, muting the verdant green of the grass poking up in the pasture. A soft breeze was rustling the newly unfurled birch and maple leaves. The air carried with it that particular spring quality of hopefulness and new beginnings; an aura that Will — nervous as he was — was rather oblivious to. He'd spent the day worrying over what to say, how to tell Hamish this huge news. The perfect words had been elusive, so what came out when he finally got the nerve to speak was terse, if not to the point.  

"Joe's offered me a job as a mechanic. I'm going to take it." Will felt an immense weight list from his shoulders as the words left his lips. His concern over his father's approval was still there, but it no longer ruled him; it was as if speaking it aloud had freed him. 

Hamish, who had been washing his hands at the pump, jerked at the statement, splashing water over himself. 

"Christ, Will, not one for a gentle breaking of news are you, son?" Hamish cursed under his breath as he removed his now soaked overcoat, leaving only his shirtsleeves. "He's expanding I suppose? I'd figured he might with how many autos there are on the roads these days." He sighed, and fished in his pocket for the slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes he always had there. Happy that they were dry enough he shook one out and busied himself with the business of lighting it.   

"I didn't know you wanted to leave, Will." While the words were spoken softly, they may as well have been shouted for the impact they had upon Will. He looked down, gripping the fence rail hard enough to hurt, not wanting to see the disappointment in his father's eyes. He was surprised when a work-worn hand appeared, offering a cigarette. He looked up to see his father's eyes did not hold disappointment, but some other inscrutable emotion. Will accepted silently, and his father equally silently held up the lighter to him before turning to look over the fields. 

"I don't think I ever really told you why I bought this farm, son." Will stayed silent, not wanting to ruin the moment. Hamish loved his son, but he was a taciturn man and had never been quick to share his feelings. Will sensed the story he had to tell was more than the simple one relayed to small children at their father's knee; that his father was offering Will a side of himself he had not seen before.

"My father was an exacting man to work for, you might not believe that 'cause he mellowed out with age a bit, but when I was young everything had to be done exactly how he wanted or there would be trouble. There was all this literature on new farming techniques, ways to increase yields, and I'd show it to him but he never wanted to hear it, never even let me try it on my own." Will thought he heard the ghost of the anger his father had held as a young man in those words.

"So I bought this place." He said it matter of factly. "If he wasn't going to let me do anything my way, I didn't see the point in working with him. Old Mr. Sable had always liked me, I'd help him out sometimes when I had extra time. After his wife died he just wanted to get rid of anything that reminded him of her, the farm included. He sold it to me for a steal really," Hamish said looking around at the farm; the buildings so lovingly maintained and improved by a quarter of a century of his father's hard work. 

"This is a good opportunity," Hamish said, abruptly switching the conversation back to the present. "I'm glad for you." He clapped Will on the shoulder. "Now I think your mother will be wondering why we've let her get her supper go cold while we stood out here." Will looked up to see his mother standing in the open kitchen door and grinned. 

"Well, now," Hamish said thoughtfully as he smiled up at Will's mother. "Meeting your mother was the real push to make my own move, has Ms. Parr been influencing this decision at all?"

Will started at the question, asked in a jovial, almost conspiratorial tone. As if his father was sure he knew the answer but only wanted to tease Will. The truth was, Will hadn't thought about Clara at all when making this decision.

His mother's impatient call to come to dinner saved Will from having to answer the question that should have had an easy answer to. As he sat down at the laden table in the warm, cozy kitchen and his father leaned down with a small smile to kiss his mother's cheek, he was gripped intensely by the desire to have something like this for himself. He found himself imagining a smaller kitchen, the table set for two, and the arms of his wife to welcome him home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

[dayaku214]

Hello clown! How is everything? We are fans of yours and the welcome home project, which, as you may have noticed, has had a huge impact lately!

We learned about the adversities and bad times you have had, and we, part of the Spanish-speaking community, wanted to do something to help.

Unfortunately we can't do anything against people who break your limits other than warn and inform, but what we can do is give you encouragement, lots of love and support...

We join forces and expand your boundaries to many people, and we understand the hiatus you are taking as a measure for your well-being, your health is very important! That's why we want to give you this great drawing collab of your main character Wally! Implying that we support your decisions and want you to rest properly, we all draw wally with Much love and care, and we will wait for you to be well and receive your welcome home with great emotion! Not only Spanish speakers, but also English speakers and people beyond support your proyect... Don't be discouraged! We are here to support you, and if you need anything we will not hesitate to join and help!... We hope you like our drawing, and that you recover soon, te amamos clown!

@partycoffin

Artists who collaborated on the drawing:

ᦔꪖꪗꪖ𝕜ꪊ-ᦔ𝕣ꪖ᭙ડ (me)

Just a Cat Guy! 💫

Yurui123

opslexpycreature

F∆rb&X👾

M1l0W

🍃[REDACTED]🍃

lamemechida

SydneyBagget

Lazu de Bonnie

hello <3

⌦ᒍᗩᗪᗴ ᗷᒪᗩᑕK

WendoDarkMoon 04

Hey, are you fishing??

I'm scared of this

JustMe.

Sun_Cak3

Hi

GhostMiaw

Zoop

It’s Mapple🌸

Mavara

dum ghost 🕸️

Shamy Crist

Eunice :3

LemonadeNekitoh

Sugarlott_

soe_illustrate

Demon y Angel

I ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟʏ!🍎

Runo Dreamclock

¡Hiro!!

Yennual's Carnival

Hi I’m Muffinlu 🌈

And more

[nexus-my-beloved]

I think the beauty of "I Saw The TV Glow" is that you take what's relevant to you from the movie.

(Below is my whole review, of sorts.)

I finally watched the movie today after seeing people talk about it for a while. Everyone I'd seen that had talked about it had some gut-wrenching reaction and said it was so impactful and that it hurt them but also was really good. One person on TikTok went as far as to say that the movie felt like "getting into a car accident and getting up to go get groceries". I thought they were over exaggerating, because anytime I see others have heavily emotional reactions to pieces of media, I never had a reaction that extreme. With I Saw The TV Glow, though? That movie made me feel more than I have felt about any other movie. It's rare that any movie, show, or book has something I relate so heavily to in it. (The only other example I can think of that made me have even a split second of the reaction I did with ISTTVG was the scene where Riley ran away in the first Inside Out because of my own experiences with running and the contrast in how her parents readily accepted her home vs my own situation, but that's a story for another day.) Watching I Saw The TV Glow left me feeling almost numb and unsure how to feel for the next fifteen minutes because it'd felt like I'd been gutted and stitched back together poorly with fishing line.

I've heard stories about how some people watched it in theaters and heard other people say something about how the movie was stupid, or how the theater laughed at certain parts, or how people made homo/transphobic comments. According to another TikTok poster, they'd seen an early screening and another person that had seen the same screening put a review on the movie about how if they were in the director chair they could've fixed the movie. There was nothing to fix about it. People took what was relevant to them from the movie. The people in theaters full of people that didn't get it while they were in tears were so much more moved by the movie and I find it beautiful that a piece of media can work that way. To go over the heads of those who the message is not for but strike the hearts of those it was meant for? That's beautiful.

The description of the movie does not do justice to what it really was about. I can't even spoil really because the movie was so much more to me than the plot, but here's a little warning for certain parts of the movie towards the end, anyway.

I'd heard so many people say that the movie did really well with the transgender symbolism but I didn't expect it to be so well done until I saw it myself. I'd heard no one talk about the dissociation that was so well portrayed in the movie or the way the finding identity (or lack of finding it) was so important.

As soon as I heard Owen say that they didn't know what they liked on the bleachers I knew I was in for it. In the beginning of the movie, I was really confused, I didn't get how things fit together, but when they were talking to Maddy and said that they felt like there was nothing there and they didn't know what they liked it really hit me that the movie was going to be impactful. "I like tv shows" being the only thing Owen could come up with was something that seemed so little but was so important to me.

I Saw The TV Glow did really well with portraying the disconnect to life that I personally feel a lot. "I was 19, then I was 20.. then I was 21." The repeated line of "years seemed to pass like seconds" really hits hard when you've been feeling like life is going too quickly, like time is slipping away from you. The consistent time skips that made it seem like time was passing too fast added to that and it was so well done.

Whether you take it literally or metaphorically with the concept of Owen and Maddy really belonging to the show "The Pink Opaque", the way they were buried alive and suffocating and being put into a different world worked really well. Either it confirmed a feeling of being out of place because they really didn't belong and they felt like suffocating because they really were buried alive, or it worked as a metaphor for how going through life as the wrong person rather than embracing your identity feels suffocating. The difference between Maddy and Owen was that Maddy was willing to learn more of who she was, to embrace more of her identity. Owen, though, was afraid to, and despite knowing that who they were under the surface was there by the end, they still supressed it. The quote "There is still time" that Maddy wrote on the street was so impactful because it reassured that (to me, at least), not everything needs to be figured out, and even though we don't have infinite time, as long as we are alive there is still time to figure outselves out. Owen didn't take the advice, but it still gave that message to the audience and it was so well done.

Owen's monologue in the theater, wondering if Maddy was right and they really were someone "beautiful" was so impactful. Regardless if you took the movie literal or not, Owen thinking that maybe there was a chance they could find themselves beautiful and then writing it off as fantasy was the equivalent of every trans person who didn't allow themselves to transition and stayed in/went back into the closet because they didn't think they could be someone they'd really like. The speech by Mr Melancholy of "You won't even realize you're dying" hurt so much because no, you don't realize that not transitioning is hurting you until you give it a chance, usually. (I didn't, at least.) It hurt in such a beautiful way.

At the end, when Owen was working in the arcade, the machine saying "you're dying" and the clear panic attack they were having was so gut-wrenching. Watching them have that scream and everyone around them have no reaction was really symbolic of feeling like your skin isn't yours and you're hurting and feel like you're suffocating/dying and no one notices. That's exactly what it was, too - an entire room of people that didn't realize Owen was dying. The screaming for their mom, the apologizing to people that don't even care because they didn't even notice, it was so beautiful and so hurtful all at once. Owen cutting themselves open in the bathroom and seeing their identity, everything they were, was still there, but still covering it up and apologizing to the other workers.. hiding your identity and apologizing for the concept of even trying to be yourself hurts but it happens in real life, apologizing for feeling like you aren't allowed to be yourself.

I think what's better was the movie being marked partially as a horror movie despite it not really being "scary". The horror was more like the horrors of finding yourself/being yourself/realizing that time is passing. I saw another person somewhere say that the horror aspect was the fact that not everyone would get it and say that it was stupid, and I couldn't agree more. That is scary. Scary that people will see something so meaningful and not see anything about it/won't get it. It really sets the concept that there are some things (especially regarding trans identity) that a lot of people just don't understand.

I Saw The TV Glow was all about two people going through life, the dissociation as life goes by and time slips away, and the journey of identity (with one finding themselves and the other refusing to allow themselves to express who they were). That's what I got, at least.

Feel free to share your own opinions on it <3

[chemdisaster]

cat dad au fic! in which kitten comforts scar. few things you need to know for context - "the isaacs" is a silly name scar gave to the heroes who would bully him, kitten uses a bunch of neos, of which i'm using xit/xitself in this fic, and for a few years when scar first found kitten he was under a lot of stress with work and they both had a bad time. that is all

"I like this one." 

Scar hums as Kitten hands him another picture. In this one, the two of them are dressed up as Hotguy, both laughing as a tiny Kitten points a fake arrow at his chest. Touching his finger to the cascading reds and oranges, he inhales the smell of memories and watches the echoes flash by. 

"I have captured you, Hotguy! Give up if you know what's good for you!" 

"No! Never! You won't catch the tail end of my whiskers, Catguy!"

"Not if I use my special bow! You're dead, Hotguy! I will capture you and I'll—"

As joy rings out in the silent air of reminiscence, a smile warmed with time spreads on his face.

"Yeah. I like this one, too."

Carefully setting the photograph aside, Scar moves on to the next one. With Ari out this afternoon, he and Kitten spontaneously decided to clear out some old boxes—and the nostalgia is hitting like nothing else. 

Surrounded by various papers and bundles and scraps, they sit side by side on the floor of his room and exchange quiet comments as they pass around mementos of years past. The atmosphere is peaceful, hushed, and looking from the tiny kitten on the photographs to the grown up cat next to him, Scar can't help but marvel at how long it's been. 

He never thought he'd get here. 

Stifling a laugh into his palm over the picture of small Kitten with a rubber fish and a beard of foam, Scar adds it to the growing collection. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he looks over at Kitten—

And his heart skips a beat. 

Centred in Kitten's padded hands is an assortment of crumpled papers, familiar as anything Scar wouldn't like to recall. Delicately smoothed out and held together with years old tape, the grid pattern has faded away, but he doesn't need to see the scribbles to immediately recognise them and everything that came with.

 

Art of Kitten that xit was never meant to see jumping at him from the frayed scraps, Scar asks, "Are those...?"

"Hm?" Kitten makes a noise that's more cat than anything. "Oh, these? Yeah, you—you drew them for me, didn't you? I remember I kept finding them in your bag."

"Yeah, I remember you kept going through my things like a nosy feline," Scar jokingly gripes. His grin thins at the edges, "I—I do remember these, yeah."

Drawing on patrols, sketch after sketch to block out the mocking, the insults—getting the drawings ripped from him and torn into tiny pieces right in front of his eyes. Sinking to his knees and cradling the pieces in his hands, tears littering the floor.

He kept them as a reminder of his failures. He never thought they would ever become anything more.

"Why were they torn?" Kitten asks after a while of Scar silently staring at his lap. "Did you not like them?"

Scar doesn't reply. Kitten knows about the mistreatment his old team would put him through, but somehow it still feels shameful, even after all these years, to acknowledge that it happened. That he let it happen, and let it go on for as long as it did because he was too weak to stand up for himself. 

Too bad to realise how that weakness was impacting the people around him.

"Scar."

"I did like them," he says suddenly, vehemence splitting from his tongue. "I liked them so much. It's just, I would always draw on missions and I'd get distracted and, well," Scar shrugs, smiling like it's all right past the bitter lump in his throat, "the Isaacs didn't like that."

"Oh."

He doesn't know why it means so much to him. They're only drawings. Stupid doodles of Kitten to chase away the self-loathing that never really left. They're not even good. And yet here he is, decades past and still getting emotional over things that don't matter. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't matter.

"I thought you were the one who tore them," Kitten blurts out. "I thought you didn't like them, and that's why you tore them. I," he breaks off, his tail curls around his legs. 

"Back when I was a kid, I thought it was because you didn't like me."

Guilt grips Scar's chest. All those years ago, when Kitten would curl up in front of a closed door—the drawings were an attempt at something good. To show him how much he appreciated him when words wouldn't come. And he ruined that, and now he's ruined what was meant to be a simple cozy afternoon.

He ruins everything, he's always known. Somehow it still hurts.

 

.

.

.

.

.

Kitten is worried about Scar.

Has been for a while now, and the torn drawings are only the start of it.

The few years during which little bits of tape would stick to his claws were hard on them both, and even years later xit can't stop the cold dark grey of abandonment from creeping up when xit thinks of that awful time. Staying up late waiting for Scar to come home, only to fall asleep and wake the next day to an empty flat—it was soul-sucking.

But he healed. He's not there anymore. Lately, he's not so sure about Scar.

A good few minutes pass before xit decides to speak up.

"It was really hard for you back then, wasn't it?"

Focus sinking into nowhere, Scar jerks as he breaks out of his daze. 

"Huh, what?" 

"Those first few years. When it was just you and me. Taking care of a child while working the way you did at the time can't have been easy," Kitten probes. He doesn't expect anything but the deflection he's come to know, and he wishes Scar would be honest with him. 

He wishes Scar would be honest with himself. 

"Well, I mean—there were some rough patches, yeah," his friend stammers out. "But—"

"You would cry yourself to sleep."

Scar's head shoots up, the dark bags under his eyes never seemed more prominent.

"I heard. Every time."

He looks down, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologise," Kitten says quickly. "Just...we keep talking about what it was like for me, yeah? But we never talk about what it was like for you."    

Abruptly, Scar gets up and walks over to the bed, sitting down, rocking back and forth as he pulls his sleeves over his fingers. 

"It's—it doesn't matter. I'm okay now."

Kitten follows, clambering up next to him and peering past the curtain of brown hair at the face hidden beneath. 

"I'm not sure you are."

Scar's expression crumples for a split second.

"Don't worry about me, Kitten," he says. "I'll—it's not your job to look after me."

Kitten scoots closer, xits tail lays itself over his back. Scar doesn't speak and xit doesn't either; words are difficult and xit's content to sit here staring at the old wallpaper, making out dirty kitchens and wine-stained floors in the peeling vinyl. Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, he's learned—he'll never ask for more than what the quiet can give him.

Outside, damning clouds begin to gather as a shuddering inhale stumbles its way out of Scar's lungs.

"Sometimes it felt like it was all for nothing."

The confession breaks the silence, but does not break the gentle swishing motions of Kitten's tail against his spine. 

"It was just—so difficult," he continues, letters spilling out of his mouth like an avalanche of wretched revelations. "Nothing was working. I spread myself thin every day and I still just constantly felt like I was doing it for nothing. And I'm—I'm sorry."

Scar's hands thrust upwards, he trips over another inhale. 

"I tried so hard to do what was best for you and I just ended up hurting you—every time. And I just," he bends his head, swipes at his eyes, "maybe I'm not meant to be good. Maybe it would be better if I just...wasn't."

His features twist, eyebrows inching higher on his forehead; he looks devastated, wrought with grief for what could have been, what he should have been and everything he never was. Decades of regret play in the creases of his skin as he tugs on his hair, blinking rapidly in the way he always does—the way that always fails. 

Kitten was never one for words, but in this moment he thinks that maybe what he struggles to give is what Scar needs. He needs to exist, and touch not meant to hurt can only do so much.

Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, but phantom promises won't stitch up an age-old wound.

"Scar, you did—so much for me," xit says, and Scar's back jumps in a tremor. "For so many people. I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Eyes squeezed shut, the other emits a low noise, "I hurt you." 

"You talked to me and gave me drawings and found me a therapist. You did more to help than anyone else ever could."

Scar shakes his head, shakes it like Kitten's words are incomprehensible, impossible to believe, and maybe they are. Leaning forward, trembling hands lifting to press to his chin, he curls in on himself, shoulders hunching like a plea—a plea for Kitten to stop saying things that he can't, won't let himself believe are real.

Kitten does not relent. 

"Look, I know you have this fear in you that you'll hurt anyone you rely on but that's not true. You deserve support, that's what we're here for."

"No, I—these are my own struggles, and I—I can deal with it—" 

Scar's voice bounces up like marbles off the wooden floor; the tears he's desperately wiping off his cheeks render his assurances anything but genuine. Clouds descending in the streams of his despair, he's never looked more damaged.

"You took care of me for so long," Kitten says softly, reaching out for a man who won't let himself accept that love never had to be earned. "Let yourself be taken care of, too."

As his friend continues to shake his head in denial, he thinks of a rainy evening, a door left ajar, a room filled with muffled sobs—and he thinks of two friends, both hurt by the world, both having found healing within each other. 

"I like your ears. Remember?"

Scar slumps, defeated. Loud, uncontrollable weeping tears through him like a wildfire and Kitten pulls him close, rubbing a clawed hand over his back, muttering, "Relax. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Raking his claws over quivering vertebrae, listening to choked cries get suppressed against his rumbling chest, he leans back against the blankets and pulls Scar with him, carding thin fingers through long brown strands as his friend settles, trembling, atop his body. Scar's hands are freezing cold, the wire under his feet looms ever farther down below— 

And Kitten knows in this moment that all that he needs is for someone to make sense of him. And xit knows that, finally, xit understands.

And when Scar drapes himself over xit in an instinctual, unguarded yearning to be near, xit drops xits head into the crook of his neck and doesn't look up and begs that this moment would never end. Kitten's heart may not shine, but he would give all the gold in his possession to mend the cracks of Scar's tainted soul.

And as he drifts to a doze with his friend in his arms, he thinks back to the torn drawings—taped together, hidden away as something to be treasured. And xit thinks, maybe broken doesn't have to be forever. 

Under Kitten's hold, for the first time in years, Scar starts to believe that maybe everything he did wasn't for nothing.